


Rutherfordium

by kirschteinkyojin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band Fic, Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Musicals, References to Drugs, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 135,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschteinkyojin/pseuds/kirschteinkyojin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M.R.S Arts Academy is the go-to capital for pretentious indie-wannabee, problem children (and adults) situated slap-bamb in the middle of the Big Apple itself. No matter if you are the singer, the dancer, the painter or the performer, you're bound to have enough clandestine dilemmas, strained relationships and obscure pop-culture references to constitute a whole season of both 90210 and One Tree Hill; all between balancing homework assignments, a cheesy rock-band, dubious love affairs, and perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime chance of success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1: Eren

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1, basically Eren is jet-lagged and close to reaching his mid-life crisis at the ripe age of 19...
> 
> Wow I can't believe I've finally got my shit together to get this fic up and running- after literally a year of brainstorming, but I'm happy with the result of what I've written so far, I hope you all enjoy it too! I'm away until next week so expect Chapter 2 next Monday~ 
> 
> (hint: it's a Jean chapter...)

**Eren**

 

The flight home had been rather uneventful. Then again, having traveled the same fifteen-hour route annually over the past six years meant I was sure as hell prepared to let my body collapse as soon as it hit the seat, not even the most brutal turbulence could get in my way. Erwin and I had originally planned to marathon the first season of True Detective during the flight home because he pulled a pretty mean Woody Harrelson impression and, well who doesn’t like Mathew Mcconaughey? So listening to my godfather relay back his lines in a sarcastically husky voice sounded a rather entertaining distraction from the close proximity of a gentleman with some serious body odor issues and the most obnoxious god-forsaken laugh you have ever heard.

However, despite our master plan I was unable to make it past episode two and proceeded to fall into a deep sleep before the air hostess could even offer me a bag of pretzels. So it was safe to say when the plane finally landed at JFK International- I was starving.

“You could have at least woken me up for something to eat I’m starving!” I hiss temperamentally, hauling my suitcase though collection towards the arrivals doors.

“Stop whining. Besides, you pretty much ate your entire body weight in duty-free saturated fats before we even stepped on the damn plane.” Levi retorts in his usual matter-of-fact voice. God it’s not like he had an excuse not to wake me, he spent most of the flight nose-deep in his Kindle instead of sleeping like any normal human being.

“We have been on the ground all of an hour and you two are already at each other’s throats? It’s a record.” Erwin jokes, stuffing all three of our passports away.

“I don’t mean to be snappy, I’m tired and Eren is in one of his naggy moods again.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“You’re grouchy.”

“Shut up.”

“You should have gone to sleep on the plane.”

“You know I can’t sleep on planes-“

Erwin silences Levi with a modest kiss to his lips before walking ahead to the glass doors out in search of our ride home.

 

I’ve lived with Erwin since I was four, when my mom died from metaplastic breast cancer. I can hardly even remember her except from what I'd see in pictures, just that she was really soft spoken yet fiercely protective of me. My jerk father was basically unheard from since day one and with no grandparents or aunts and uncles to speak of; my godfather Erwin adopted me and raised me as his own son. He’d always been close to my mother; known her since High School and was eager to take me in. He’d even taken care of me while mom was sick in hospital. We had always lived in the same large, single-family home in Tarrytown, Greenburgh. I can’t lie and say it’s been rough- my upbringing with Erwin has not been a sob story in the slightest. That’s what you get when you live under the roof of the vice-principal of M.R.S, one of the best Arts Academies in the country. Not too shabby at all.

Levi came into the equation when I was about eight- when he started working at M.R.S Academy as a musical theatre teacher, and he and Erwin have been in a long-term relationship ever since. I’d say they were basically married since they live and do everything from their gym membership to the mortgage together. But it looks like the two of them will never get around to officially tying the knot; so we just settle for our little rag-tag, non-blood related, artsy trio situation and it’s nice. I mean yeah, sure I argue with them from time-to-time, just like any other nineteen-year-old would with their folks. Normally the bickering reverted back to the same old argument about me ‘wasting my dancing and singing ability on a stupid rock band’ because Levi doesn’t approve of mine and my friends’ choice in extracurricular activity.

Erwin on the other hand doesn’t really mind what I do in my free time; as long as I keep my grades up in dance class enough to keep on my program at M.R.S, tuition fees aren’t cheap after all. That’s no problem though, I actually like ballroom. Originally I started out when I was nine, it was supposed to help me keep co-ordination for basketball, but the dancing ended up coming naturally to me.

 

“Hey Jungle George, how was Africa?” I can practically  _hear_  the smirk in his voice before I even lock eyes with the guy.

“Hey dickwad, how was the colonoscopy? Or do you just have that face without a rod up your ass?”

“You jerk, c’mere Jaeger!” Jean laughs, tackling me into a hug.

That’s right; I’d been in Africa, Botswana to be exact, for the past two and a half months. It’s been a family tradition for the past six years, meaning my summer vacation is always practically non-existent. Not only was the annual excursion a bonding experience for the three of us, it was a trip that Erwin has forever been passionate about. He often says the trips give him a sense of freedom and liberty he doesn’t find within the bustling city he spends every working day. And I can’t argue with him, the voluntary work was always rewarding. This time round involved 10 weeks travelling to different schools to teach subjects like English to Music and helping bringing aid packages to villages around the country. But it was always nice to be home too, with my friends and Mikasa, and in close proximity of Bodt’s Pizzeria.

In fact, a deep-pan Hawaiian sounds so good right about now, perhaps with extra cheese just to be-

“Yo Eren I know you’ve been gone a while but you can let go of me now, any longer and your girlfriend will be jealous!”

“Wha-“

“Hey.” And there she is just behind Jean, Mikasa, looking expectedly on at me with her arms open. I let go of Jean instantly and dash over, throwing my arms around her and pressing a rushed kiss to her lips, her presence as familiar as the day I left.

“I thought you were working late today?” I ask before urgently kissing her again.

“Shop was really quite so I got off early and Jean had enough room in the car.”

I bury my face into her shoulder, mumbling ‘I missed you’ s and kissing her neck a little as we rock back and forth on our feet in a tight hug. Behind me I hear Erwin thanking Jean for the lift home and Levi muttering to ‘put her down already’ so we can get going.

 

“So, what have you been up to over summer? Postcards aren’t much information to go on, and you know how temperamental our Skype calls were.” I joke, climbing into the back of the Jean's father's jeep while he, Levi and Erwin start lifting bags into the trunk.

“It was nice; Annie and I finally unpacked the last boxes. Sasha and Connie took me to see Jurassic World- but failed to give me the memo they were going to toss water over themselves every time a Velociraptor came on screen. Oh and I saw Billy Joel in Madison Square Garden, he was a-ma-zing.”

Finally unpacked, not like they haven’t been living in that apartment six months already…

“Billy Joel? Nice! Did Annie enjoy too?”

“Actually, Jean and I went together. It was his idea.”

“Oh right… cool. You never said you two were going in a letter-“

“Yeah I remembered her saying she’d always wanted to see him that time we were at Thomas Wagner’s house party over spring break. My dad gets military discount on tickets so I thought I’d ask her to come with.” Jean shouts from the rear of the car, helping Erwin lift the last case.

Billy Joel, together? Alone?

“Hey Jean remember that really up-tight couple stood next to us?”

“How could I forget? Thought the guy was gonna burn a hole in the back of my head for singing along.”

Since when did those two get so close? I mean yeah sure they're friends but going to Madison Square just the two of them…

“Hey” Mikasa's hand reaches over to touch my own, “Is something wrong? You’ve been staring at the floor for like two straight minutes?” She searches my eyes.

“Oh, no no sorry I’m just tired…” I pull away.

I can’t believe it, that’s weird, why would they go alone? And have little inside jokes about it, they obviously had fun together. No I’m just over-thinking it. Of course they are allowed to do stuff together, it’s not as if they are… no, they would never…

“Yeah I think we're all rather jet-lagged.” Erwin butts in as the others slip into the car and Jean starts the ignition.

“So Kirschtein, you found out what tutors you have this year?” Levi asks from the back seat beside me.

 

Jean and I met two years ago during auditions for M.R.S. Being the vice-principle’s ‘son’ may have its benefits, but it didn’t by any means get me a free pass into the academy. The two of us ended up in a clash of ideologies over who was more influential to British rock music between The Beatles and Queen, which almost turned into an all-out fist fight. That was until a tutor came into the waiting room and we hastily converted our argument into a make-shift acting session about ‘Mr Herbert, the poor unfortunate soul, wrongly accused of the murder of his wife and currently on trial in front of a strict jury’. Not only did it form the bridge of our unlikely friendship and a round of applause from the receptionists on duty, but also landed our names in the good books with tough -cookie drama professor Keith Shadis. However, despite our miraculous on-the-spot acting abilities, I stuck with ballroom with Mikasa and Jean with comprehensive vocals.

“Um, I got Mike and Nanaba.” Jean murmurs uncertainly. They were nice for sure; though Mike Zacharius, well he had some rather bizarre training techniques. Something about sound and smell being connected... I’d rather not know the details.

“That’s good, no need to worry- they are both very talented teachers.” Erwin adds, “Eren, Mikasa, you both have Rico again this year, is that right?”

“Yeah that’s right.” Muttering through a yawn, I rest my head on Mikasa’s shoulder- god I’m still so tired.

“You could have me if you would just do theatre.” Levi mutters under his breath. I don’t even bother answering. He knows I’m not interested. Sure, I like going to see shows- just before we left for Botswana Levi took Jean, Reiner, Connie, his girlfriend Sasha, and I to see Newsies on Broadway. But I’m happy with the way things are, dance with Mikasa during the day then band practice in the evening with the boys. I don’t have time to prance around the stage singing power ballads.

 

We got stuck in heaps of traffic through Queens and ended up making a drive-thru pit stop to my absolute  _delight_. That poor unknowing burger only saw the world for 2 minutes before it rested blissfully in my stomach. Same could be said for me when we finally got home, Mikasa slept the night- and by slept I mean that was that and nothing else. I was out cold after quick make-out session and before I even got my jeans off.

It must be around eleven AM the next day when I wake with Mikasa in my arms; who'd seemingly changed into one of my old, baggy Batman T-Shirts and even saved me a chore by throwing the clothes from my suitcase into the wash bin.

Looking down at her softly sleeping form, I find myself tracing gentle ringlet patterns of into the small of her back, not willing to wake her up quite yet. Even if I am in a truly desperate need of a shower.

What was I even worrying about with her and Jean last night? Billy Joel means nothing, more than nothing, it’s like negative nothing! It's irrelevant, Jean's my friend and Mikasa is my girlfriend. We're fine like this. Yeah, everything is good.


	2. Act 1: Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two finally up after being away for a week- I hope you enjoy the Eren and Jean banter I really enjoyed writing it!!
> 
> Gonna start posting them every Monday now if possible, again feedback would be much appreciated that you! <3 (Stay tuned for double pov chap next ooo)
> 
> Also- I pretty much pictured Air Guitar by McBusted for 104th's lil' jam session- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kYwhl3qDFPY

  **Jean**

 

‘buzz’ chimes the doorbell for what seems like the _fifth fucking time_. I swear to god that bastard better not still be in bed! We were meant to be at the pizza place 10 minutes ago, and we only have two hours there as it is.

“That’s it-“ I murmur out loud, rummaging my pocket for my phone to call Eren’s cell.

“Bonjour, Jenny.”

“Eren get the fuck out of bed we’re late.” I reply, ignoring his attempt to partake in our practically daily routine of ‘Jenny and Erica’ the suburban housewives on their weekly trip to the country club for mint margaritas and workplace gossip.

“I’m literally deciding on a shirt now jackass, ooo wait wait, do I go for that blue one with the retro jukebox or that new floral button-up from SoulCal?”

“I don’t give a damn if you come outside naked right now.”

“Wow kinky!”

“Eren-“

“Fine fine I’m just doing my hair quickly. I’m in the midst of perfecting my ‘1950’s mysterious youth who recently moved to Ohio with a dark past and is killer hit with the ladies’ look. Besides, you can come in idiot, the door is open.”

That asshole, honestly why I’m friends with the guy is beyond me sometimes. As I step though the front door I’m greeted with the familiar sense of awe that I felt the first time I ever walked into the grandiose home. Levi always makes sure it’s spotless throughout, even keeping a shoe rack by the door for me, Connie and Reiner in particular, fearing we will trapes mud over the upstairs white carpet. Every room in crystal clean, well apart from Eren’s that is, which Levi refuses to enter most days…

The hallway is probably one of the most eccentric rooms in the house, filled with all sorts of African tapestries and ornaments made by villagers that Mr. Smith has been devoted to helping. That man always amazed me, how he constantly made time for everyone, not just when doing voluntary work- but at the college too. Heck, he even had the patience to take in and deal with Eren which must have been a feat in itself.

“I’m ready!” Eren yells clambering down the stairs like some sort of rampaging bull, looks like he did go for the blue jukebox number in the end. “Dude, do you actually own anything other than denim shirts and beanies, it’s fucking August.”

“Your icy heart makes me cold even on the hottest days my spicy little fruit-loaf. Now hurry up- no stop messing with your hair you look fine Danny Zuko come on we can’t be late. Marco’s grandfather was nice enough to let us practice at the pizza place before it opens for lunch. It’s your fault Levi won’t let us practice here anymore anyway.”

“I didn’t mean to break the coffee table! Besides I don’t understand why we can’t practice at Reiner and Connie’s place.”

“Their neighbors in the flat above put in a complaint about Reiner’s drums, so he only has chance to play when they’re out.”

“You mean the neighbors that always have sex really loudly? Wow they’re ones to talk. UH UH OH KEVIN HARDER!” Eren imitates- probably too loud for a suburban neighborhood, locking the door and following me to my little blue Citroen at the end of his driveway. “Your dad didn’t mind you borrowing his Jeep the other day did he? How’s life in Albany anyway?”

“It's fine, Mom has started up her own cross-stitching class so I spent half my time up there pouring tea for her lady-squad. And no he didn’t mind, it gives him an excuse to come down here to pick it back up.”

“Seems like a lot of hassle when we could’ve just got a taxi from the airport.”

“He wants to see the city, he’s not been since he was like fourteen and it’ll be like a vacation for him. He should be coming down within the next two weeks or so. Besides he was happy to do it, he thinks you and your folks are a good influence on me. I mean, you’ve really helped me out- all the times I’ve come over unannounced for dinner if rent’s been a bitch.” I answer because it’s the truth. Not all of us can afford our own place like Connie and Reiner, or have the luxury of growing up a 30 minute train journey from the city like Eren. It’s not like I could drive three hours from upstate where my parents live _everyday_ just to get to college. So I’m glued stuck living in campus accommodation and surviving on only microwave noodles and my over-enthusiastic street-wise tendencies.

“Guess that means you're still not looking for your own place?” Eren chews at his thumb, his other hand fiddling blindly with the radio looking for a channel that isn't playing something from this century. I think he likes to see himself as an intellectual, but I know for a fact he owns a Macklemore album and has saved some rather questionable Spotify playlists in his time. 

“Campus accommodation is cheaper, and I don’t have anyone to move out with now anyway…”

“Sorry dude, I would but I can’t expect Erwin to pay my board and busting tables at the jazz bar isn’t exactly giving me enough money to buy a flat.”

“Its fine I don’t mind it honestly,” I do mind actually the shower blocks are disgusting “I’m right around the corner from class anyway.” and the Wi-Fi is so god-damn slow- urgh- Eren could totally get a better job than Hannes’ bar if he just tried.

 

 

Soon enough I pull up by the street corner behind Reiner’s black van- messily painted with our band’s name ‘104th Element’ in white on both sides. We're definitely late.

Bodt’s Pizzaria is a pretty small restaurant. It has a quaint family-feel sure, smelling richly of fresh dough and lit dimly with converted glass bottles and jars hanging from the ceiling, creating a soft orange glow. However, thanks to Mr. Bodt, with the tables and chairs pushed aside there's plenty of room to fit all our equipment.

Marco, the owner’s grandson is someone I’d describe as more of a sizable acquaintance rather than a friend of mine. I’ve known him almost as long as I have Eren- but never have I seen Marco on such a regular basis. I know he's around our age and has been Eren's friend for years, growing up in the same neighborhood n'all. He's a nice guy, although something about him always gives me the impression he's a little bit sad. I heard his parents died when he was really young- like Eren’s mom, so that’s how they were able to bond in the first place; so it makes sense for him to be the way he is.

“Eren, hey!” Connie shoots up from his seat and runs over to the door, shortly followed by Reiner who looks to have just finished setting up his drum set. “How was it? Mikasa told us a bit over the group chat but you always disappear of the face of the earth when you go! Wow you look really tanned, jealous!”

“Yeah it was great, although my shoulders are still a bit burnt. I’m sorry though, really guys… I know me leaving puts a halt on a lot of gigs and opportunities for us.” Eren apologizes, I kind of feel bad for him, being pulled every direction by so many people pleading his different responsibilities. But it was Eren who put the band together in the first place- perhaps only for entertainment purposes and nothing too serious- but irritatingly yet undeniably so, it is 'his band'; and so he knew what he was getting himself in to from the start.

“We don’t mind, I mean I’ve already landed us a gig in Lenox Hill next month.” Reiner muses, he was proud of himself for that one. Turns out some art gallery are opening and the theme of the display is ‘youth’ so they wanted a ‘husky young rock band’ to play on opening night.

I retrieve my base from its case, clutching excitedly like some energetic school child. Sure I’ve played alone since Eren left, and Connie brought his guitar round to my place on occasion, but it just isn't the same as when all four of us play together. As fucking cliché as it sounds, preforming together is like second nature to us and we seem to get right back into swing of things as soon as we begin. Sure Eren and I piss each other off sometimes… but as soon as we sing together, any feelings annoyance between the four of us just disappear in an instant. Besides, Eren is such a showman when he performs, it's hard to stay mad at the guy when he's doing his ridiculous butt-wiggle and jumping around the stage with such a big grin on his face...

 

The jam session comes to a close almost too quickly and it's while while packing away the equipment into the back of our respective vehicles that we all spot Marco running down the street in our general direction; grinding his worn shoes against the pavement in aid of halting when he reaches us. Hastily he starts tying his work apron around his back; panting and looking flushed as if he’s just finished running some sort of marathon.

“Eren! I thought you’d have already gone by now, did you have a good time in Botswana?” He's as graciously soft spoken as usual, despite the pining for breath.

“Marco! It was great thanks. You running late for your shift or something?”

“Ah yeah, I was meant to come in early to help my granddad move the furniture back after your practice… but I kind of um, overslept.” The freckled teen answers bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Oh we will help you with that, right guys? We owe you and your grandfather big time for helping us out like this anyways!”

“Yeah sure, might as well get lunch while we’re here.” Reiner chimes in, swinging his head around the side of the van.

 

 

“Here you boys go!” Mr. Bodt sets down the last of our order is casual satisfaction. We're the only people in for lunch by the looks of things, except a middle-aged man on his laptop in the corner of the room and two young women deep in convocation over a shared ice cream sundae.

“Thanks again sir, for everything.” I reply; cutting into the large pepperoni number in the middle of the table.

“Oh don’t worry about it; it’s hard to turn down Eren after being such a good friend to Marco. It’s been very hard on him. What with growing up without his mother and father, and then not getting into-“

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” Marco interrupts sharply; wow what’s his issue? 

“No we’re fine thanks.”

“Oh, okay… Well, when do your classes start up again?” The freckled boy questions, whipping down the table next to us. Eren had told me Marco had to drop out of state college to help his grandfather at the restaurant, so he was pretty much glued down to his job right now. Although I have no clue what he even wanted to study or do for himself. Although he looks a plain and simple guy, Marco's life remains somewhat of a mystery to me, a road I don't feel obliged yet familiar enough with him to travel on.

“Well, perks of the 3D art department, mine already started- but these guys aren’t back until next week.” Reiner’s sculpting and design classes had started up at the beginning of the week, along with the rest of the art students on Rose campus. On the other hand Eren and Connie in Maria campus and me at Sina still have half a week until lessons begin again, much to Reiner's dismay.

“Connie how’s practice for the Thanksgiving dance recital going?” I question; he and Sasha spent most of their summer together perfecting their jive routine while band practice was off, though this particular piece has been kept rather amusingly under-wraps since the two of them began preparation.

“It’s going to be awesome just you wait, Sasha’s really excited to do this new lift we’ve got planned! But I still can’t believe you and Mikasa aren’t performing this year though Eren…”

“I’m hardly going to have free time on my hands over winter as it is. Levi’s going to make me help prepare tickets and crap like that for the West Side Story production. I tell you as soon as he’s back at work next week he’s going to be frantic preparing!”

If I'm not mistaken, I feel Marco tense up behind me before he rapidly twists exits to the kitchen without so much as a fleeting goodbye. What is up with this guy today? Does he not like Christmas or something? Surely the mention of Levi doesn't bother him; I’ve seen the two of them together multiple times when he’s been over at Eren’s house… I wonder-

“Jean… Jean!” Eren yells, snapping be back to reality.

“What?”

“Your phone is ringing you moron!”

“Oh shit.” I pull it out my pocket and check the caller I.D.- no way. No way! Holy shit holy shit!

I dash out to the street with break-neck haste, practically diving out the front door to answer the call,

“Hello, is this Mr. Jean Kirschtein?”

“Y-yes yes it is.” I stammer, holy fuck I can’t believe they called me back.

“This is Anka Rheinberger from Shiganshina Entertainment in California, we received the demo you and your professors at M.R.S Academy sent to us and we were very impressed! One of our talent scouts will be on business in New York as of next week, we were wondering if you would be available for a meeting with him during his visit in order to discuss any possible opportunities to work together in the future.”

Holy. Shit. Oh my god a real recording agency wants me? Wants to discuss working together? This- this could be it, my big break! My chance to get an official recording contract!

“Yes! Yes of course, thank you so much!” Holy fuck I think I’m going to explode. Uncontrollably I jump up and down with little care of passers by, although turning around it doesn’t look as if any of the guys have noticed just yet.

“Well, we will email the details of his visit by the end of the week to arrange a suitable appointment; we look forward to hearing more of what you have to offer Mr. Kirschtein.”

“Yes, okay, yes thank you again okay goodbye thanks!” I end the call and freeze, “Oh my god, it's happening. Its- HELL YEAH! WOOO!”

“Woah Jean, what’s up with you? Who was that?” Connie steps outside questioningly, eyebrows raised in intrigue, “Ya getting laid tonight or something?”

“Nothing.” I lie, “Well yeah I just um, got a date…” I can’t tell them the truth, not yet. If nothing comes of it I’ll look like such a fool. Besides, I never told them that I sent the demo of me singing in the first place. God knows how Eren would react if I told him…

“Aww widdle’ Jeany-boy has got a date!” Connie coos, jabbing me in the side.

“Ow! Whatever, come on lets get back inside. You’d better have saved me a slice of that pizza!”

“Uhh… Don’t worry we will get you a victory ice cream. Everyone Jean’s getting laid!”


	3. Act 1: Levi / Bertolt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo chapter 3 is here, first character double-bill (It was super exciting writing Levi tbh) Anyway hope you enjoy, feedback welcome and appreciated, thank you!! <3
> 
> First song reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0dCw-FP13U  
> Second song reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scHS8YaYoRA

**Levi**

 

Despite everyone’s initial impressions of me and my fondness for cleanliness, I don't actually mind the train ride to work on a morning. Every weekday, Monday to Friday, I travel the Metro-North to Grand Central at 7:10 AM sharp. Some days with Erwin, but he usually works from home until the afternoon. The train ride may be cramped and full of sweaty business men and women, but the sunrise as I pass the Hudson River is a beautiful thing to behold; the soft orange light rippling streaks of gold across the water, creating a comforting aroma and promise of a feasible day. The ride back is something else entirely though; jam-packed with a surge of tried-looking people, all antsy and irritable, just wanting to get home in time for dinner and the latest episode of Scandal or whatever other show was occupying the current mindset of the copious populace- and I am definitely one of them.

No doubt when I arrive at work I’ll be bombarded with questions about Botswana, which I’ll reply with an ‘It was great thanks’ and a ‘so how was your summer’. Then I’ll proceed to only half pay attention to escapades of the random employee, who only felt obliged to begin making small talk in the first place because I usually end up located right next to the assortment of Starbucks muffins brought daily into my staff-room. Therefore said employee wants to attempt to hide the fact they were claiming the sugariest option available by talking to me, despite swearing to have been living a sugar-free diet since 2013.

Work is going to be hectic in getting those kids into top form for the Christmas Production. It’s not like some shitty little Middle School performance, lots of Broadway producers turn up looking for the new young talent; and I like to make sure my class is compiled of only the most talented pupils in order to give them the experience and opportunity they need to excel. When I announced we would be putting on West Side Story back in March, one of my pupils- Ymir, had been adamant she _needed_ to take on the role of Anita from the start, claiming the feisty character was ‘the entire embodiment of herself compiled into a fictional being’ and a role ‘only she has the talent and capability of portraying’. As arrogant as she may have been about it, I respected her enough as a developing performer to give her the part. Naturally this meant the only person suitable for the role of Bernardo was Bertolt; who can somewhat tame Ymir’s perfectionist attitude and is tall enough to accommodate her in terms of dancing. The only problem being that the boy lacks any motivation or incentive to perform, despite his extraordinary singing ability. It's painfully obvious the young man doesn’t want to be in my lessons or to take part in musical theatre in general. Therefore despite my constant efforts to coxes him into letting out the talent that clearly sits inside him; Bertolt seems like almost a lost cause. I’ve decided to give him till the New Year- four and a half months from now- to improve his attitude for his own sake if for no one else, otherwise he’ll be cut from the program and free to do what he wants with his life.

Comically, Bertolt's lacklustre attitude reminds me a lot of Eren, not that this fact improves my attitude towards either boys to much degree. Damn! I wish Eren would just drop the teenage dirtbag attitude of his and join my class instead of spending his time parading around with Ed, Edd and Eddy like nothing else matters. It’s not like he’s aiming towards being the next Dancing with the Stars professional, so his ballroom lessons with Mikasa are going to be for nothing if he puts all his attention into that god-damn band!

 

“No Bertolt wrong, again!” I yell, whipping off my glasses, tossing my script beside me and standing from my seat in the auditorium. “I told you to hold down that note; did you not do any practicing over summer?”

“I- I did sir I just… Sorry I’ll try again.” The sweaty young man stammers, fiddling with his fingers. Despite being the tallest person on the stage, his poor posture and lanky limbs makes him look like nothing but a new born giraffe.

“Yeah, sure you did Bertl- now sir; with all due respect can we please get back this group number. How are the rest of us meant to practice if the whole lesson is dedicated to helping out the BFG over here?” Ymir sighs stepping out from behind her class members, hands on hips and tapping her dancing heel against the stage floor impatiently.

“Fine! Bertolt, you sit down here, if you’ve got your phone record it. I’ll show you how it’s done- and I expect you to follow what I do _exactly_ afterwards!” I sigh removing my jacket and tossing it on the chair I've occupied. Stepping up to the stage I roll up my sleeves to my elbows and with both hands, pushs my hair back over my head. If me physically showing this boy how he needs to comport himself doesn’t work, then I really am stuck for options. These brats can be more hassle then they are worth honestly. Still I’d better do something- even if this dance number was far too much ruckus for me this early on a Tuesday morning- otherwise I’ll have the rest of the class on my case for not giving them the same attention and that is something I do NOT want to deal with at the start of term. “Right, get into your positions everyone- from the top. Hit the track.”

  
“ _Puerto Rico , m_ _y heart's devotion, l_ _et it sink back in the ocean!_ ” Ymir Begins, gracefully stepping towards the front of the stage, away from the rest of the ensemble. Her swagger and attitude instantly taking control of the number completely. It’s undeniable her stage presences is splendid.  _“Always the hurricanes blowing, a_ _lways the population growing._ _And the money owing, a_ _nd the sunlight streaming, a_ _nd the natives steaming-_ ” She continues, waving her hands around, mimicking the lyrics she sings, fanning herself and sauntering to the left of the stage, a satisfactory click of her heel with each step she makes- calculating them all almost effortlessly. _“I like the island Manhattan”_ She adds with a smirk in Bertolt’s general direction, who has taken my advice in filming- yet displaying little regard towards what is happening on stage, instead just staring blankly as if in a world of his own. The nerve. “ _Smoke on your pipe a_ _nd put that in!_ ”

With a single stamp of her heel against the floor her female classmates follow suit, gliding over towards her, all pouting in character and clapping rapidly to the beat.When the chorus drops they instantly pick themselves up. Their arms slightly outwards and their fists lightly clenched; as if they were holding their flowing dresses on the night, instead of being dressed basic in leggings and jogging bottoms.   
  
“ _I like to be in America, o_ _kay by me in America, e_ _verything free in America-_ ” The girls chime, twirling around the stage in time with one another, towards us men on the right.

“ _For a small fee in America”_ I start, accepting my role as Bernardo. Although I had personally never played the role in any production I’d ever taken part in- I had enough knowledge and experience to understand the actions and emotions behind the character I portrayed, allowing me to instantly compress his characteristics into my performance upon the stage.                                                                                                                         

 “ _Buying on credit is so nice”_ Ymir continues, loosely pointing at me- highlighting my key to step forward.  
  
“ _One look at us and they charge twice”_ I interject, circling her and gliding backwards, one sliding leg at a time. My other pupils- in particular Samuel and Mina- begin interjecting their particular lines, bringing their own characters into tuition and from being on stage with them, I can tell they have made excellent improvements of their own.  
  
“ _Skyscrapers bloom in America, Cadillacs zoom in America, industry boom in America-”_  
  
“ _Twelve in a room in America”_ The boys all step forwards now, merging in between the girls- shoulders loose and arms following their bodies movements with a precise grace.Ymir and I continue to trade lines with one another; the girl never misses a beat, it’s obvious she’s practiced a dubious amount over summer to remain in top form.   
  
“ _Life can be bright in America”_

 _“If you can fight in America”_ We begin to pair off, I loosely take hold of Ymir’s hand, she and the other girls twirl around effortlessly in their dancing shoes as I and the boys jump and slide towards them- as if in some sort of cat and mouse chase. Boys and girls continue to interject one another upon queue, every one of them has an undeniable talent which I am thankful for, it is clear that those on stage all want to, and feel passionate about being up here.                                                                                              

Just I spin I notice from the corner of my eye- The door? The door just opened! What happened to no entering during lesson? Oh no, what’s he doing in here- Eren and his… his posy. Wha- damn that brat, he’s smirking! Now this is just what I needed!

“ _Lalala America,_ _America,_ _Lalala America,_ _America!"_

Damn that cocky little shit, he’s mocking me! Prancing around pretending to dance with fucking Springer! 

“ _I like to be in America, o_ _kay by me in America, e_ _verything free in America,_ ”

The song’s speed picks up rapidly- twirling, leaping, stomping of feet and clapping of hands take over the number- all of which I can see Eren and Connie sarcastically following while doubled over in fits of hysteria.

" _Lalala America, lalala America, lalala America, lalala Americaaaa!"_

With that last note the number ends; I and the students hold our poses for a practiced ten seconds, despite the unwanted audience cheering sarcastically at the end of the hall. I’m not about to let Eren- or anyone else for that matter- interfere with my lesson, not with the production on the horizon.

 

“Well done old man! I’m surprised you can still dance like that at your age… what was that again by the way?” Eren applauds, clapping his hands frantically- his ape friends behind him attempting not to burst into fits of laughter.

“What are you doing in here? In fact forget it, get out.”

“No can do Pops. Erwin said we can have the auditorium for band practice, saves the guys having to get the train to our place, and they have a drum kit in here for Reiner!” He shouts, sauntering his way down one of the isles towards the stage. I then hear Braun mutter something about leaving his drum sticks in his locker and he quickly exits the room.

“Well I’m glad one of us supports your Five Seconds of Summer tribute band but could you not wait until after my lesson has ended?”

“Uhh, you lesson ended 10 minutes ago…”

I squint to the large clock hung at the back of the hall, shit.

“Alright guys, class dismissed! Rehearse your lines post- ‘Dance at the Gym’ those are still rusty. Nice work Mina, Samuel. Oh and Bertolt, remember what I said- I want improvements.”

“Y-yes sir.”

I retrieve my jacket and notes from my seat and make my way down the isle passing Eren.

“Thank youuu. Oh and all sarcasm aside, you were pretty cool up there. When I see you performing like that it kind of reminds me of Thanksgiving nights, when you used to get out your guitar and we’d sing Do-Re-Mi from The Sound of Music.”

“… Shut up” Honestly this kid, I make my way to the exit before calling back to the boy, “Don’t forget dinner’s at 7 tonight, we’ve got catch-up TV to watch so I’m ordering Thai food- see you later.”

 

 

**Bertolt**

 

My parents had always been pushy people. Perfectionists to a tee and adamant I follow in my Grandmother’s footsteps towards performing on Broadway. It was a dream shared also by mother who never had the chance to make it a reality for herself. She had me unexpectedly at a young age and lost her opportunity to perform because of it. I thought to anyone, it was clearly evident she was only persistent in shaping her one son to take on the role she couldn’t, not because I, myself, had any passion regarding performing in the medium. And that was it, the one big-fat glaring problem with her sculpting me to ‘stardom’. I hate musical theatre.

From a young age it never sat right with me. Sure, I respected the classmates around me who pursued it vigorously and couldn’t deny the talent they possessed, but the thought of performing on a stage like that, pretending to be someone else and remembering lines and following a routine didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. I loved singing but I just wanted to be free when I did it. To perform as Bertolt Hoover and sing what I want- not acting like Marius Pontmercy or Pierrepont Finch almost every night for goodness knows how long.

Not that I could tell anyone about my true wishes, whenever I used to express my disinterest in performing to my parents- they brushed it off simply as stage fright and nerves. But I knew full-well it wasn’t my social anxiety plaguing me from putting all my efforts into theatre. Any fears of performing on stage had already been flushed out of me since being made to take part in my local theatre’s production of ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ when I was aged eleven. Now the only pangs of nervousness I felt were when faced with confrontation with either strangers or those pressuring me into getting onto the stage. So, I guess after all my fruitless efforts I just… gave up, accepting my ‘natural gift’ and unable to demand anything but what my mother and father wanted from me. So I let them apply me to MRS, and pay the excessive student fees to attend; all for advanced classes in a field that give me nothing but misery and pangs of guilt for not speaking up for myself sooner.

 

“URGH DAMN IT ALL!” I cry, slamming my locker door shut in frustration. Everyone had left already, some sort of plans to try out a new bistro on 9th to which I had made some poorly executed excuse in order to decline the offer of joining them. I’m so sick of it all and it’s only my second day back… Well I don’t have any other lessons today so I guess I’ll just go back to my dorm room, Netflix and a fat wad of ice-cream sounds like a good distraction. Maybe I can finally get around to watching Orange is- wait… that singing.

Holy shit- it’s good.

I sounds like… an Ed Sheeran song?. Where is it coming from? The auditorium? Oh of course! Professor Levi’s son came in with his band! Levi has complained about them during class many a time before… I guess it’s not his style of music or whatever. Wow, it must be so cool to be in a band… I’m sure they won’t mind me just looking in on their practice, right?

I make my way out of the locker room and towards the auditorium doors. There they are. There is um, Eren? I think that’s his name… and two other boys, a taller one with an undercut and a short one playing the guitar-

“ _This love is a blaze,_ _I saw flames from the side of the stage a_ _nd the fire brigade comes in a couple of days-_ _Until then we got nothing to say and nothing to know b_ _ut something to drink and maybe something to smoke-_ “                                                                    

Eren and the taller boy sing together, taking verses each at a time. They’re both grinning madly and jumping around the stage in a little dance, while the small one with the guitar strums wildly. He follows them around, pulling all forms of ridiculous faces in amusement, even laughing in between. I can practically feel their exhilaration from the other side of the door- all three of them giving off a magnitude of energy I’m sure most must find as captivating as I am. Wow they sound good. They look really happy … God I’d give anything to have that-

“What are you doing?”

“AHH!” I scream, doing a 180 spin to find the source, a guy- looks about my age, blond hair, a bit shorter than me but strongly built… really strongly build wow-

“Are you snooping?” He questions, oh god is he mad? No, he’s grinning? Is he threatening me?

“W-what no no! Ijusthappenedtobepassingand-“ I stammer uncontrollably, oh god he’s getting closer what do I do? He’s going to think I’m some sort of stalker!

“Hahaha you’re so jumpy! Calm down its fine. I’ve seen you around here before, your in Levi’s class right?” He’s smiling now, wow it’s actually kind of pretty, those little dimples in the corners of his mouth… fuck I’m probably staring.

“Um yeah, I- I was just leaving and I heard those… guys in there singing…”

“Yeah I’m with them,” I must look at him in some form of confusion because he lifts up his right arm to reveal a set of drum sticks “left these back in my locker on Rose campus.”

“Oh, so you don’t actually take a music course?”

“Nah, I do sculpting. The band… well it’s more of a hobby of ours and a way of earning a few extra bucks on the side.”

“Oh cool.” There is a pause after that, what do I say? He’s still looking at me, oh god I can _feel myself_ getting red under his stare he’s bound to notice!

“Sooo, are you going to come in or just continue watching from the door window?” He chuckles, moving over and putting his hand over the door knob. Damn it he’s cute, and he play drums that’s kind of hot oh god…

“Oh, no no I better not intrude, I was on my way home anyway… sorry again, for being nosy I mean.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not intruding! But if you’re sure... I guess I’ll see you around?” He looks at me expectedly, oh right my name!

“Um, Bertolt… Hoover.”

“Nice to meet you _Bertolt Hoover_ ,” He beams “I’m Reiner.”

Reiner. Nice.

“Well I’ll see you around, I hope I do anyway… Goodbye Bertolt Hoover!”

With that he leaves through the door to join the other boys. He… hopes to see me again?

I leave without looking back through the door, although as I so I start to hear drums in the distance. I can feel myself smiling and grip the strap of my satchel a little tighter. Reiner.


	4. Act 1: Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Armin is Frozen trash...
> 
> This is honestly the cheesiest chapter ever but then again that's what this whole fic is panning out to be. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, Jean is still one of my faves to write- all full of obscure metaphors. 
> 
> Thank you!! Feedback is much appreciated :))
> 
> Song reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IM5C9SPHuQ

**Jean**

 

It's actually happening. I'm having a meeting with talent scout from a _real record company_ \- today. Turns out the guy I'm seeing, Ian Dietrich… well he is a very early riser. Early enough so that our breakfast appointment has me up and making my way down to my floor’s shower block at _6 freaking AM_. Not that I have any right to complain, granted what it is for, I'd have happily not had any sleep for the past week since I got the call if it meant this would be happening.

I still haven't told the guys about it, or anyone for that matter. All three of them have continued to pester me about the girl I'm now apparently banging which has resulted with me tossing out some lie about a ‘cute brunette I met on the subway the other day’ which is complete shit-talk on my behalf given: 1, I’ve not had sex since the beginning of summer vacation (fun times for me) and 2, even if I was banging anyone I’m almost certain it wouldn’t be a girl. But that too is something none of them need to know about anytime soon. It’s not like I thing any of them will mind or especially care- Reiner in particular who I'm already around 75% sure had inhaled my homosexual aroma from day one, given his own queer musk instantly dominates any room he enters. It's just the thought of having to deal with Eren’s unavoidable over-reaction which deters any upcoming reveal I may have planned within my mind. Sometimes the guy has a ridiculous tendency to be instantly offended whenever something is kept from him longer than a month of knowing a person. As if he's gained an instant VIP pass to the lives and times of anyone and everyone within his friendship circle upon a confirmed Facebook request. So I can’t tell him about it now or he'll just freak and then the convocation would most turn into a little something like,

_‘I’m sorry Eren for not telling you sooner that I like dick, but you see- when I first met you I was unsure of how to even load up the dishwasher in my dorm kitchen, never mind how to reveal my sexual preferences to you- a guy who when i first met- was contemplating smacking across the face with an encyclopedia.’_

Despite all this, Eren's reaction to my meeting today frightens me more than the thought of coming out to a much greater extent. Eren is such a complex character when it comes to giving him any form of ‘bad news’. I mean would he be happy for me? I doubt it, even though he knows full-well it's my dream to do this. Would he really be mad I’d pursued it on my own, without the three of them? Probably.

Sure, the band is fun and I love playing with those guys more than anything- but if they all can’t dedicate themselves fully to it, how are we meant to achieve anything? How am _I_ meant to achieve anything?

Eren and Reiner and Connie: well they all have dancing and sculpting and other priorities outside of the band to keep themselves occupied. But for me, singing is all I have; it’s all I want to do. It's all I _can_ do. I can’t just sit around idly waiting for those guys when there's an opportunity as rare as this for me to grab, I can’t. Therefore, as much as I would love to happily shout to everyone I know about the interview- I better keep my mouth shut for now.

 

The halls are completely empty. Obviously no teen in their right mind would happily be up at this time on a morning unless they were yet to see some form of sleep at all.

“Uhh, conceal Jean don’t feel, don’t let them knowww.” I can’t pretend I didn’t know the words to that god-damn song, and every other Frozen tune for that matter. Connie’s little brother and sister make sure to watch it repeatedly every time their mother brings them over to see their older sibling. You just gotta hope and pray you’re not in his and Reiner’s apartment when they arrive, or you prepare to be persecuted with a day filled with coloring in pictures of Elsa and getting forced to play Olaf the fucking snowman in a game of dress-up.

I round the corner into the guys bathroom. The block opens into a square filled with sinks, lockers, and a square wooden bench in the middle. From there, a door on the right leading to the bathrooms and directly in front of me, an open-tiled arch leading to the showers. The lack of modesty within the whole bathroom is astounding; however given the usual hysteria before class every morning, the whole area is more like a boy’s locker room from High School than an actual college bathroom. I can hear one shower already running as I unpack the shampoo and body wash from my bag. Who on earth is up at 6 in the morning?

“ _The window is open, so's that door”_ My head instantly lifts at the sound. Is that… is that coming from the shower?

_"I didn't know they did that anymore, who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates?”_

Oh my god. It is. And they are singing… _Frozen_?!

 _"For years I've roamed these empty halls, w_ _hy have a ballroom with no balls?_ _Finally they're opening up the gates”_

“Pfft!” I snort, covering my mouth quickly with my hand, trying to keep my voice down; although…. I gotta admit though… he sings… really fucking good. He kind of sounds British? I mean it makes sense there are plenty of international students at M.R.S- yet he’s a bit different? Like he’s masticating his vowels, as if he were from Brooklyn; ether that or putting on the shittiest accent ever. 

Damn I need to get a wash but I can’t interrupt mystery man over there. He obviously hasn’t heard me come in, still if I turn on my own shower he’s going to know someone else is in here- and I’d like to save us both the embarrassment... I can’t come back later though or I’ll be tardy for the meeting. I make my way over nearest stall and begin undressing slowly outside. Maybe he will stop soon, and then I can pretend to have not heard him singing when I got here. What sort of person would get up this early for a shower anyway? Surely not to blast out Disney songs in the shower, this is a freaking Arts Academy; they could do it whenever they wanted!

“… _But then we laugh and talk all evening,  w_ _hich is totally bizarre, n_ _othing like the life I've led so farrr!”_

Who the hell is this guy? Belting out notes like that! I’ve never heard his voice before- he’s definitely not in my class… Maybe he does theater? But then again I’ve seen Professor Levi’s class perform before; I’d have remembered a voice like that for sure… Wow… he sounds so, so… attractive? I’ve gotta know how he is stat!

What if I… nonono I couldn’t! That’s ridiculous! But then again… If I join in he might come out… Or at least tell me his name! Oh my god his voice! He’s like one of those mermaids who mesmerize pirates in old fairy tales. He sounds beautiful I have know, or I’m gonna go mad!

“ _…But for the first time in forever... at least I've got a chance.”_

Oh boy- am I really going to do this? This is humiliating- but I… feel like I have to…

“Huff _…_ Don't let them in, don't let them see, be the good boy you always have to be _”_ I start, my voice shaking slightly- _"Conceal, don't feel, put on a show... m_ _ake one wrong move and everyone will know”_

God. How relevant.

“ _… But_ it's only for today? _”_ Oh my god it worked! He replied!                                                                                                              

“ _It's only for today-“_

“ _It's agony to wait-“_

“ _It's agony to wait_ _…Tell the guards to open up the gate!”_ I belt out, his reply instantly overpowering me with the confidence to continue. It actually worked this is insane…Without even fully registering, I start walking towards the other shower… wait what am I doing? It’s like this voice, its drawing me towards it…

 _“The gates…_ _For the first time in forever-”_

“ _Don't let them in, don't let them see…”_ Oh fuck me…                                                                                                       

_“I'm getting what I'm dreaming of-“_

“ _Be the good boy you always have to be-“_ It’s like I can’t stop, even if I wanted to- like in some freaky voodoo way, I was meant to be in here right now…

“ _A chance to change my lonely world –“_

“ _Conceal –“_

_“A chance to find true love!”_

What am I doing!? I’m right outside his shower, literally a thin curtain between us… Crap, if anyone saw me now!                                                                                                                                

“ _I know it all ends tomorrow, s_ _o it has to be today, '_ _cause for the first time in forever... f_ _or the first time in forever- n_ _othing's in my way_ -UHH AHHHH!”

“AHHH!” I scream, falling backwards to the floor- “OW!” shit my head, wha- a- a body on top of me… wet… naked? NAKED!

“OH MY GOD!”

“OH MY GOD!”

The boy thrusts himself away from me, clambering across the floor and reaching for his towel. When my sense of realization miraculously returns to me I hastily and rather pathetically attempt to cover what little remains of my dignity…

“YOU’RE NAKED!” The mystery boy shrieks, throwing the towel around himself, still on the floor like me; face burning a deep shade of red. He has blond, shoulder length hair- currently wet and smoothed back over his head. He only looks small but, he’s gotta be my age to be here, perhaps a year younger. “WHY ARE YOU NAKED?”

His frantic yelling pulls me back to some form of reality… although at this point I’m not sure if I’m even awake at all…

“Y-YOU’RE NAKED TOO!” I stammer uncontrollably. Wha-  what the fuck do I say?!

“I WAS IN THE _SHOWER_!”

“I… I was going t-to the shower!”

“YOU WERE STOOD OUTSIDE MY CURTAIN!” Oh god the mixture of lividness and embarrassment on his face, I’m never going to be able to look at this guy again- And this was the first time I’d even seen him in my life… He- he was pretty cute too… FUCK, JEAN NOT THE TIME!

“I- I’M NOT A PERVERT!” I yell, almost too defensively. Yep now he will definitely think I am a pervert. “I- I PROMISE!”

“ _You promise_? You promise you’re not a pervert?! Why where you outside my shower then?”

“I- well I was just… your singing I was well, curious?”

“You’re a stalker…”

“NO. NO I’M NOT I SWEAR!” I plead, crawling over towards him.

“DON’TGETANYCLOSERSTALKER!”

“OKAY CALM DOWN PSYCHO, I’M NOT GONNA HURT YA!”

“PSYCHO? YOU WERE THE ONE STOOD OUTSIDE MY SHOWER NAKED!”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO FLUNG YOURSELF AT ME!”

“I slipped!” He defends himself, well- it makes sense. Fuck. No matter which way I take this I look like the bad guy… I didn’t mean to snoop on him; I wasn’t going to sneak in his shower or anything like that… “Can you get out of here, Creep?”

“I-I need a shower…”

“What? A cold one?” Um, excuse me?

“No! Who shoved a twig up your ass Kate Winslet?” God what’s with this guy? And I thought he was cute but-

“What? In fact, just forget it; go take your shower! And, if you ever talk to me again I’ll report you.” He spits, getting up and collecting his belongings, readying to leave.

“FINE CRAZY!” I retaliate, storming over to the shower I was going to use and throwing the curtain closed vigorously without looking back at the blond. He was not about to ruin this day for me. “Like I’d want to talk to you again!” I soon enough hear his bare footsteps on the tiles going past, “Also- Frozen, _really_?”

“Touché.” And the exit door slams shut.

 

By some damn miracle after the shower fiasco with Yosemite fucking Sam I still managed to arrive at my breakfast appointment on time. Turns out it was taking place at Café Grumpy on 224 West 20th Street meaning, I was expecting to have to splurge out what coins I could find amongst countess jackets riddled with pocket fluff in order to purchase one of those damn $12 coffees which only someone like Eren could afford on the fly. However to my delight Mr. Ian Dietrich was humble enough to save me my laundry money and gift me with one of their Decaf La Pastora which was almost soothing enough to calm the raging swirl of brain-turbulence threatening to have me pissing with excitement in my very seat.

“So Jean, obviously I saw your tape- I must say one thing that really struck with me was the level of stage presence you have, I mean it was almost like you were acting up there? Have you done any before?” Ian pressed, he was a tall and thin man- with really defined cheek-bones god you could kill someone with those things; and was dressed sharply in a beige waist-coat and trousers making me look like 1999 Justin Timberlake in a room full of 3-piece suits. But apart from that, he was actually… quite normal. One of the first things he did was show me a picture of his two sons on his phone and start talking about how jealous his wife was that he got to come up to New York while it’s still pretty warm out- he made me feel strangely comfortable.

“Um- I did a little bit when I was a kid. Like some adverts and an episode of CSI. Oh and a couple of walk-on parts in a few Disney shows; but it wasn’t really for me.” I answer sipping my drink nervously, cautious that anything I say could and probably would be wrong.

“Oh wow!” He seemed genuinely surprised, looking down to make a few notes in his diary.

“Yep, I was the Disney kid that could have been…” I murmur, subtly attempting leaning forward. If it could just know what he’s been writing about me this whole time…

“You know Jean” He started, instantly making me retract and look up to his face, “I’m having a hard time understanding you.”

What? Oh god he hates me. It was the Disney thing wasn’t it? Fuck Jean you idiot…

“Woah! No need to look so glum it’s not a bad thing!” Ian pressed, leaning back in his seat chuckling. “Look what I mean is I want to know who you are, or at least who you think you are.”

“Who, who I am?”

“Well you told me you are in a band, yes- so you sing pop-rock chart songs. That’s fine. But then the demo you sent was you singing ‘Ain’t That a Kick in the Head’ clad in a full suit on stage like you were performing at the Royal Albert Hall. And now, now you are dressed like you just stepped off someone’s bohemian Pintrest board! I’m just struggling to find out what your image is.”

He was right, I looked like I’ve just robbed Johnny Depp’s fucking closet; and I couldn’t deny enjoying obscure 1950’s films like Blue Denim and Rebel Without a Cause… But still, I fucking loved Maroon 5, I had every single album… And I liked The Hobbit even though people said it was stupid in three parts, who gives a fuck? Orlando Bloom can leave me Legolas any day.

God I want this _so bad,_ how do I articulate a sentence he’s staring at me and I’m just sat here sweating like a Nun in a brothel? Think Jean think!

“Well- the thing is; I don’t really know myself.” He looked up to that, eyebrows contorted in what I presume is confusion. Is this the right way to go about it, or should I be spouting some ridiculous lie to big myself up?

But this, it’s not like hiding a few things from Eren to save his fragile ego- this is my potential future I can’t start it with some made up crap!

“I’m only nineteen; I have no idea what I’m doing half the time. I still have to ring my mom to know what color clothes I can wash together…” I mean only last week one fatal sock left half my underwear a nauseating fuchsia color.

“Ha! Don’t we all? My wife was not too happy when I shrunk her favorite blouse.” Wait, this is actually working? He’s laughing, really laughing!

“…And I still get really excited on Christmas day. Who doesn’t like those Starbucks peppermint mochas?”

“And the chestnut praline latte!”

“Yeah!” I can’t believe how great this is going? He’s nodding and agreeing with me, laughing at what I say- it’s sort of like talking to my dad… Like I can be honest with him. “But about this whole label thing sir- believe me I have wondered myself what ‘category’ I fit into. Sometimes I sit down and think to myself- how on earth can I prove to people who I am, what I can do- when my appearance in coherence to my personality is about as deceiving as a savory muffin-“

“What the hell is a savory muffin?” He snorts into his drink.

“Oh, it’s just this saying me and my friends have. Like when a person is different on the outside to on the inside?” Ian nods in understanding, putting his cup down and his hands together on the table. “I’m like a walking juxtaposition, guess maybe I just don’t have a style?  I’m sorry I’m really going off on a tangent, but- _I really want this._ ”

I could practically see Ian taken aback, his face softened and his mouth opened slightly starting-

“You know, you’re brutally honest.” That’s a joke given how many things I’ve negated to tell Eren this month alone…

“Yeah well I’ve never been very good at keeping my mouth shut. But I swear to you sir I will work my ass off so that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Maybe that sounded too needy. Fuck maybe a lot needy he’s not saying anything. I pick up my cup in a hurry another take a swig anxiously.

“I like you Jean.” What. Cautiously I look up to see the smiling man, his words leaving me practically chocking on my coffee. “You’re a good kid. You don’t try to pretend to be someone you’re not. Do you know how many people I see every year who pretend to play the ‘small town teen who doesn’t know how talented they are’ character? But you know how good you are, you have the ambition- whilst still realising you’re young and naive. It’s… refreshing.”

“You- really?”

“Really. I think you’ve got a lot to offer Jean, I’d like to see more of you.” Oh my god. Looking down at his watch Ian rises from the table. “Now I’ve got to get going to another meeting but I’d like to see you again really soon if that’s okay?”

“Y-yes of course!”

“Ha, excellent. Also, if you’ve got any gigs coming up I’d like to see your band in action too.”

“We’ve got one at Lenox Hill next week?”

“Sounds good, I’ll call you soon to arrange. It was nice to meet you Jean.” He finishes, collecting his coat and extending his hand. I shake it graciously, praying they’re not all clammy with nerves.

“Thank you sir.”

“Call me Ian- you make me feel old.” He chuckles, making his way to the door and leaving with a subtle lift of his hand.

 

I could probably scream at the top of my lungs right now in this café if it wouldn’t lead me to being locked up for indecent public behavior. What the hell, am I on Punked or something? Is this the fucking Truman Show? Oh man I can’t wait to tell my dad he’s gonna be stoked! Eren on the other hand… well that’s another story.

Drawing me back is the feeling on my phone vibrating against my leg. Surely not Ian already? No, my Dad?

“Hey dad?”

“Hey son, listen I know I said I wasn’t going to be up to collect the jeep for a while, but something’s come up- I’m gonna have to make a quick visit to get it tomorrow.” His voice is a bit wobbly, what’s the matter?

“Yeah yeah that’s fine. Dad, are you okay?” I ask worriedly, is Mom okay?

“Sorry I’m fine just a little… tired that’s all. We can still go out for dinner if you like?”

“Oh, okay- I can make us a reservation somewhere. I’ve got some really good news to tell you too Dad!”

“That’s… that’s great Jean. Listen buddy I’ve got to go but I’ll call you when I’m on the train tomorrow. Bye.” With that he hangs up abruptly before I can even construct a reply. What was that all about?

 


	5. Act 1: Mikasa / Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Eren can be a little bit nosy and Annie gets deep...
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chap, feedback is much appreciated and thank you!! <3
> 
> Nocturne and Tarantella reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbMd33HVABo

**Mikasa**

 

“I can’t believe how warm it is!” Eren muses kicking his legs slowly in the water and stretching his neck out like some sort of exasperated cat, his arms slackly holding himself up against the side of the pool.

“I’d make the most of it while we can; it won’t be long until its starts getting cooler.” I comment, sliding into the water and resting my back against the wall. My eyes soon lock on a young couple at the other end of the swimming pool. They look just a few years older then Eren and myself; wrapped grossly in one another’s arms, sucking each other’s faces off and practically dry-humping right on the spot, “Urgh, don’t you just hate pool PDA?”

“I dunno,” Eren’s hand starts creeping across my abdomen, pulling me in closer, “Seems pretty hot getting jiggy in the water.”

“I swear to god if you try anything ‘jiggy’ in this pool you’ll loose a finger.” I snort, detaching myself and resting identical to Eren.

We’d originally planned to go to the movies when we woke up at my place this morning, however the blaring sunshine when I opened the bedroom curtains made it too good an opportunity to pass coming down to Hamilton Fish Park while there was still time. It wasn’t particularly busy despite the heat, although with school just about starting again there weren’t many children about this time of day. So instead it was pretty much just us two, a few elderly people doing morning laps and Brangelina 2.0 playing tonsil hockey over in the corner.

Not that it particularly mattered where we ended up coming to be honest; I just knew Eren needed a good distraction this morning. We’d both been rudely awakened by a call on Eren’s cell from his manager, Hannes- who’d been an old friend of his mom’s and owned a jazz bar in Yonkers which Eren more-than-occasionally busted tables at. Or at least used to. The call essentially letting him down with the news that his hours were being cut considerably due to overstaffing; meaning Eren would be left with even less of his own money than he already had currently. But it wasn’t like he was poor or anything, heck living with Erwin meant Eren would never be short of anything he needed (or even wanted). But he was far too humble to rely on his Godfather to pay for everything for him and that job made him feel like he wasn’t always relying on the wealthy circumstances of his care-givers all the time.

“I like that bikini by the way- red always suits you.” He sits chewing his cheeks nonchalantly, looking down at his swaying legs before bringing his head up with that goofy smile painted on his face.

“Thanks. I wasn’t going to get it but Historia was taking absolutely ages in Victoria’s Secret and frankly I needed the distraction.”

“Oh god, it’s that time again isn’t it- can’t wait to hear about all the sexscapades from Ymir next time she’s been on the Bacardi!” With a seemingly military precision, once the 15th of the month comes around Historia’s outlandish girlfriend proceeds to invade everyone’s Snapchat with the adorable blonde on her arm; only to tell us all a second time of the events of their night (in _extreme detail_ ) the next time we meet, which would more than likely be whilst intoxicated.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ymir sober?”

“I have. Last week her and Levi were practicing in class.”

“Levi? Why was he on stage?”

“Well there’s this guy on his course- Bertolt he’s called- who doesn’t exactly enjoy what he’s doing to say the least. I think Levi’s trying desperately to groom him to ‘perfection’. I only know the poor dude because Reiner’s started giving him the ol’ ‘muscle magnifique’.” That sounds right for sure. Although Reiner didn’t get out there that much so he must like the guy I suppose. “And it’s not just Reiner, Jean’s at it too! He’s apparently been talking to his girl outside of college… Although he’s been hesitant to give us any of the details yet.”

“Jean?” Now that on the other hand didn’t sound right at all. He’s never told me anything explicitly, so I wouldn’t like to presume… but over vacation he kept asking me if Eren minded having Erwin and Levi as parents. It was pretty out of the blue, and obviously I said no because it was the truth. That combined with the general way he’s been acting all summer, it’s like he’s dying to tell us all something- and if I am presuming correctly- wrongly thinking we’d be ridiculously shocked and upset if he did come out- gay, bi or otherwise.

“Don’t sound so surprised, even watermelons like him can get a date.” Before I have chance to crack a smile the faint sound of my phone vibrating from my bag on the poolside draws my attention. Hopping out I make my way over and dry my hands with my towel before checking the phone- oh no. Five messages all long, frantic, the last one asking if he can call before the phone begins ringing in my hands anyway.

“I’m here Jean.” I answer attentively, shit he must be crushed- it’s not been that long since his dad got back as it is.

“Jean?” I hear Eren question, stepping out of the pool himself.

“It’s not fair! H-he only just got home…” His voice is all hoarse and wobbling, not at all his usual self “They said he wasn’t going back yet!” What do I say? Nothings going to make it better for him- how do you comfort someone whose parent is getting deployed? “Hey, hey listen I’m at the pool right now but I promise I will keep texting you okay? Sorry okay, bye.” Rubbing my head, I let out a deep sigh just as I hear Eren waddling over.

“Jean? What was that all about?”

“Oh,” It’s not my place to tell Eren “it’s nothing… he just wanted to talk to Annie, about help on an assignment or something.”

“Why didn’t he just ring her?” He grunts, picking up his towel and drying his face. Crap. That was probably a lame excuse.

“I don’t know! Like you said he’s a watermelon.” I’m sure Jean will tell Eren in his own time, just once he’s calmed down a little. It’s not that Eren is a bad person to come to when you’re upset- he can just be a bit _hands on_ , asking a lot of questions which Jean probably won’t feel like answering right now…

My phone starts buzzing again as the two of us sit down on our towels. Eren reaches to unpack our lunch while I begin reading,

_< THEYSAID HE WASN’T GOIN BACK UNTIL NEXT YEARAT LEAST THEY SAID ITS NOT FUCKINGFAIR>_

_< HE CANT GO NOT NOW NOT AGAIN MYMOM SHES GONNA B ON HER OWN AGAIN>_

Eren passes me over a drink, which I half ignore- beginning to type a reply,

_< Listen, Jean. Nothing we say will stop him from leaving, this is the sort of thing you can’t change.>_

“Hey Mikasa do you want-“ Eren’s voice trails off in my mind as I try articulate a response.

I’ve always been what some might call a ‘blunt personality’. Yet that doesn’t mean I don’t want to comfort my friends; all of whom I care about. But Jean can be difficult; our relationship isn’t the same as one I share with any of the other boys. Connie is easy, he’s goofy and he likes fun things, Reiner I can bond with over the athletic stuff- and he too can be a bit of a coddler, even if we both don’t want to admit it. Jean is different though, I think it’s because he’s so much like Eren. I can be blunt with him in the same way and still joke about similar things whilst retracting all the romantic parts. When I talk to him its like talking to that one cousin you only see when someone dies or gets married, then proceed that night to get absolutely rat-assed together whilst talking about the controversy that shrouded the album  ‘Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s The Sex Pistols’. Jean is an artistic and articulated person who would never give out simple advice; in exchange he wouldn’t want it either. He doesn’t so much care about sugar-coating anything and saying ‘everything is okay’, if shit’s bad then it’s bad, end of; and right now I’d say it’s _extremely_ bad.

_< I understand you are going to panic, but your dad wouldn’t want it to worry too much. He’s done it before, he will do it again. Have faith in him>_

“Yo Mikasa are you even listening?”

“Hmm, yeah that’s fine.” I answer Eren, pursing my lips in concentration and not looking up.

<BUT WHATABOUT MOM SHE IS ON HER OWN AGAIN ICANT AFFORD TO GO BACK TO SEE H ER>

<You told me before that your mom has lots of friends. I’m sure she will be able to manage on her own, they will help her.>

“Hello wall, having a nice day? Oh yeah I’m having such a splendid time on my date!”

“What Eren?” I snap, probably sounding more irritated than intended. His face turns into that of annoyance and he raises his hands in mock defence.

“Woah! I was just asking if you wanted an apple or a peach sheesh…”

“Right, sorry. Um an apple” I need to pee, and to think of how to get through to Jean “I’m just gonna head to the restroom.” I say, putting my phone down and leaving.

Man, this is going to be difficult to keep from Eren until Jean tells him for himself. I mean the others aren’t so dense, I’m sure they will pick it up without the prompting- Eren on the other hand sees Jean as the principal of all truth-telling, someone who will declare anything and everything to him and couldn’t keep a secret even if he really tried or wanted to. For the most part that is correct; you can tell Jean you have a secret date planned with your significant other and he will probably let it slip within the next hour alone. You could show Jean you’re new (poor) haircut, he will most likely tell you if you look like a Proboscis Monkey rather than the next Kardashian. He is blunt, to put it plainly.

But it's clearly evident to someone who doesn’t see the goodness in others all the time like Eren does, that Jean does still keep a lot of his personal matters on a need-to-know basis. And this isn’t necessarily a bad trait on Eren’s behalf; in fact his perseverance to love and willingness to see the best in people despite having grown up without either of his biological parents for the majority of his life- well it was an admirable attribute to have.

With all this in mind however, the mystery shrouding Jean’s hoax of the ‘brunette’ is becoming all the more beguiling. I can cancel the idea quickly that Jean’s mystery meetings are in connection to his dad, given his distraught attitude on the phone- it’s likely he’s only just heard the news of his father’s departure for himself. And I can’t put it past the guy to actually be telling the truth, though in this incident it seems unlikely. Perhaps he's seeing a guy? But then again, Jean can be an arrogant prick- he would at least make _some_ saucy remarks about his new bed-buddy, even if he negates to give any of us a gender-specific answer. Instead; from the way Eren has told me, Jean’s been all too timid to even go into detail about the matter in the slightest.

What is he up to?

Urgh, why am I even bothering the figure all of this out now? What Jean does in his free time is up to him, and how can I even worry about trivial things like who he’s wooing when I should be trying to figure out what to do about this whole ‘dad’ situation before anything else.

 

I make my way back towards our towels and spot Eren in the distance hunched over my bag. He’s probably trying to find my lip balm or something- wait, my cell? I reach him soon enough to see him angrily shoving random digits into the phone, his eyebrows contorted in confusion. I can tell he notices my shadow as I step behind him but he makes little attempt to look up. Probably too familiar after all these years to _not_ notice my presence in such close proximity.

“You changed your lock code?” He questions, continuing to tap at the screen.

“Sasha kept making annoying Dubsmash videos… why are you trying to get on it?” I reply hesitantly. Slowly walking around to sit down in front of him.

“I was just-“ He pauses, biting his lip a little before sighing in continuation, “I just wanted to know what you were talking about with Jean okay?”

“I don’t think it’s really my place to talk about it.” I answer quietly, holding out my hand and Eren cautiously hands the phone back.

“Well that just sounds conspicuous!” He chuckles dryly and looks down at his crossed legs. “I get the two of you are sort of friends and everything; but you can tell me if you’re planning on some sort of round-two Billy Joel date…”

'Date'? I understand Eren can get a bit jealous if he’s left out sometimes but getting worked up over a concert seems a little excessive…

“Are you jealous or something?”

“Well, you get like that too sometimes ya know.”

“Hey, listen. There is nothing ‘conspicuous’ going on- Jean is just… upset about something and he wanted a little consoling.” His placid grunt of a response has me continuing, “What? Now are you annoyed he told me before you or something?”

Eren bites his thumbnail and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before mumbling out something about it being ‘weird’.

“Fine, here take a look for yourself.” I unlock the phone and pass it back to Eren who scrolls slowly through the resent messages; his mouth forming slowly in an ‘O’ shape and his shoulders slumping in embarrassment.

“I don’t know why he told me first really; maybe he just wanted ‘womanly advice’ or something?” I answer honestly as Eren finishes and looks back up to me, shock still apparent across his face.

“Poor bastard…” He whispers, putting the phone down, “Well, I suppose you are kind of like the mom of the group...” A small and expecting smile starts playing on the corner of his lips which I can’t help but return purely out of childish habit.

“Me, the mom? I always thought Reiner had that role claimed?” I joke, reaching into the lunch bag for my promised apple.

“Oh no no that’s definitely you. Besides you’re the one who talks about having a soccer team full of munchkins in the future!” He laughs to which I try not to choke on the first bite I take.

“Me? That’s you! What was that about wanting to dress your future children up as each of The Avengers?” We seem to fall almost instantly back into our usual selves, forgetting quickly about the whole misunderstanding.

“Fine okay, but you gotta admit a baby Hulk costume would be freaking adorable!”

Like I’d ever want to trade this dork in for someone else.

 

 

**Armin**

 

“Thanks again Annie for helping me out like this! I know most people would be a little skeptical about letting a first-year paint them…” I grin dipping my brush back into the chartreuse on my palette before bringing it back up to the large canvas in front of me. 

“You don’t have to say thanks every time I do this. No big deal anyway- the others are just lazy fuckers.” She answers in the monotone manor I’ve quickly become accustomed to hearing.

 

‘The image of sound’. It was one of my first assignment briefs I’ve been given by my teacher, to paint what we could hear. Most of my class had simply chosen to plug in their headphones and allow the sound of various compositions to give them the inspiration to create abstract paintings ranging from water-colour to gouache. I on the other hand wanted to include some form of physical being into my piece; the brief never specified how the work had to be displayed. Therefore my chosen option was to persuade one of the students from Sina campus to let me borrow them, or at least stay in their company long enough for me to finish the painting. All the first-years had been hesitant which came as no surprise. Like me they had only been attendees of the college for a few weeks and were trying to settle in, make friends and good first impressions for themselves, they had little patience to begin aiding people from different courses all together.

Naturally going to ask third-years seemed an unlikely choice as well. They would all already be heads-deep in their projects for their final year and would have next-to-no time to spare. Therefore my easiest port-of-call was evidently the second-years. All in some way knowledgeable of their environment, but still fresh enough that I wouldn’t disrupt them too much. Annie was the only person from her strings class who volunteered to help when I practically dived on a group of them leaving one of their lectures last week.

 

“Besides it’s not like this affects me anyway. I get to practice, you get to practice, who’s it hurting?” She adds, finishing twisting the tuning pegs of her violin before bringing it up under her chin and into position.

Annie’s chosen practice composition today she tells me is from Karol Szymanowski, 'Nocturne and Tarantella'. I'm relatively familiar, to my understanding the piece is originally a composition to be preformed alongside a piano. However, even though I may not be as knowledgeable in regards to Polish classical music as I am to something like the fine arts during the Italian Renascence; I can easily tell Annie has the skill and stamina to absolutely take control of the piece on her own.

From the first time that I met her I could tell she was a bit of a lone wolf. She did appear to have friends, wasn’t particularly introverted or anything, only, she prefers to work alone and isn't really that much of a a team player. Though by the stunning way she preforms it is very much apparent that this is the way in which she excels.

I was able to finish a basic outline drawing the last time we met, which pretty much consisted of a rough sketch of Annie’s face, her hair down and falling over her left shoulder, with the violin in position and her eyes closed. The plan today though is a lot more tactical and really will determine where this assignment is to be heading.

I listen carefully to each note Annie plays, monitor how fast or slow she brushes her bow along the strings. The whole piece sounds volatile in a miraculous way. The tune interchangeable from smooth and romantic as if we're walking the streets of Paris in the spring, to relentless and devious rhyme with jarring, sharp notes making me jolt my paintbrush in a similar fashion.

I let the colours flow together, creating hybrids between them. Some darker or more watery than others. Each stroke wrapping around Annie from the sketched violin down to the tips of her toes, decorating her in a gown of the colour of her own music.

 

After about a half hour Annie stops to rest and makes her way over to a chair in the corner of the small sound studio. The interruption of rustling against the plastic across the floor I placed to avoid dirtying the carpet meets my ears and I lay down my brush to Annie passing me up a bottle of water from her bag.

“Thank you” I muse, undoing the cap, “You know Annie, you’re a really kind person.” She stares back at me, her face blank and expressionless. Shit. That came out wrong I probably sounded totally rude and creepy-

“Ha, really? I always had the impression everyone thought I was a heartless bitch.” Okay the blunt specific-ness of that answer definitely gives me the impression she’s been called exactly that before. Before I can even open my mouth to answer she carries on, “Or ‘the girl who will have sex with anyone with a pulse’, or ‘that one who thinks she’s tough as nails because she’s in the self-defense society’”.

“…People really say that?” I ask cautiously, averting my eyes.

“It’s not really anyone in class. Mostly around campus and some in my apartment block- the jerks. I think my favorite was when some slobbering brute called Rufus who lives a few doors down, told me to, _‘fuck off back to whichever obscure European country you and your fat-ass nose came from’_ … I’m from fucking Idaho.”

“Does it upset you?”

“Why do you think I take the self-defense classes?” It wasn’t really a question and more of a blunt response. It seems ridiculous for her to be telling me all of this, but perhaps that's only because I too had previously fallen into the obtuse category of people who thought Annie was like the real-time, dark-horse version of Blanche Devereaux in The Golden Girls (minus the dead husband). I apparently may also have been under the false pretenses that Annie was a young-woman who didn’t want to find company with others past a one-night-stand… and now it's nothing but sadden to me to think that people do actually wrongly judge her based the false stereotypes regarding her casually sullen appearance and the fact that Annie has a blatant reputation as a notorious tri-sexual (which I had quickly learned upon overhearing convocations thought my small time at M.R.S before I had even met her in person).

Despite this allegation, she deterred me from the gossip's presence on our first encounter; making it clear that- although she doesn't believe her sexual preference is anyone else’s business but her own- the ever-present rumors that she is impulsive in her sexual endeavors are ‘complete bullshit’.

 _“They were made by people,”_ Now whom I presume are similar to Rufus- _“who want to paint me as a bad thing. So they say I have a lot of sex. Because they think that that’s a bad thing.”_ Is what she had said to me the first time we worked together, and I think her words have really struck a cord because- hell, she is right. It does't matter if it's 2015, or that we live in what is supposed to be ‘the center of the universe’, a melting pot of characters from all different cultures, sexuality, genders and overall ways of life- some people still think the idea of a promiscuous woman is scandalous; like we're still living in the bloody middle-ages or something…

 

“No need to look all sad at me like that Windsor.” Annie's harmonic chuckle pulling me back to reality. 'Windsor', it seems, Annie's new-found adopted nickname for me and the Queen’s English that corrupts my vocabulary thanks to my Kensington upbringing, “I do have friends ya know?”

“Ha, yes… sorry.” I smile, taking a seat next to her and bringing the bottle up to my lips to take a deep swig, “I- I don’t suppose you recommend your neighborhood for a first-time buyer then?” 

“What, campus accommodation not treating you right or something?”

“Well, it might not turn out to be a problem. But some guy was sort of stalking me in the shower blocks yesterday…” God the thought of it still makes me shudder, I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life…

“' _Sort of_  ' stalking you?”

“Well, now I think back on it- perhaps I was a little harsh on him. He did say he meant no harm, I guess I was just taken by surprise.” He did try to apologize I suppose-

“So what exactly happened then?” Annie queries, turning her body to face me, her tone surprisingly intrigued.

“You’re going to think I’m really silly but, well I was singing… In the shower that is... and this guy, well he sort of, joined in. I thought it was kind of, I don’t know- cute? At first that is. I didn’t even realize he was stood right outside my shower until I- well we sort of… Crashed.”

“Shhitt…” Annie whispers, nodding her head slightly, “Um, what accommodation block are you in again?”

“A-3.”

“Did the guy have a good voice?”

“Yes, actually he um- sounded great…” More than great, god it was rough and husky and, _gorgeous_. Shit no he is bonafide s.t.a.l.k.e.r Armin-

“And you were singing?”

“…Frozen…” If I’m not mistaken Annie tries to hold back a grin, biting on her lip and bringing her hand up a little to cover her mouth.

“Did he have brown hair?”

“Yes and an undercut?” Okay now she is definitely trying not to laugh- “Do you know him or something?”

“Oh no no it’s fine, it’s nothing!” She awfully tries to cover up through fits of uncharacteristic laughter, “I knew it!” She half-yells, taking another sip of her water and laughing again, her shoulders jiggling and shaking her head in amusement. Overall; leaving me personally more confused about the whole situation than I already had been since that very morning.


	6. Act 1: Connie / Erwin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically Sasha and Connie are cuties and Erwin is dad of the year...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! <3

**Connie**

 

It's nearing the end of August and we have a little under three months to get our routine polished and completed before the Thanksgiving recital. It'll be a piece of cake in theory, no assignments or class work will be _that_ strenuous, and with Sash by my side all's bound to be good anyways.

The dance studio is about half as full as it could be, although I hear there was some crazy party in one of the dorms last night so most of the class is probably still sick in bed with a bucket beside them. From the large mirror covering the back wall I can see some of the other pairs just beginning to warm up and perfecting their own moves with the help of our instructor, Mr. Gelgar. He’s alright I suppose, a pretty laid back teacher in terms of practical work, but as soon as the homework comes out it, well then it’s all _‘Connie this assignment was meant to be in last week’_ and _‘Connie you can’t refer to Dance Moms in your essay on the history of the Lindy Hop’_.

 

“But I don’t understand why these morning classes are necessary. We are fucking awesome as it is and frankly, I think that warrants getting off for lunch early.” I chuckle, stretching my legs further apart and dipping closer to the floor at the pressure of Sasha’s hands pushing against my back, stretching out the tight muscles.

“Because, why just be ‘awesome’ when we can be… stupefying!” She breathes, pushing harder between my shoulder blades.

“That’s a fancy word.”

“ _Spine-tingling!_ ” Sasha chimes, digging her elbow in roughly.

“Owow okay I’m done, now let me do you.” I rise as Sasha lies back-down on the dance floor, her arms on her belly and lifts her legs up for me to grab. Slowly I begin pushing her legs down towards her, stretching out her calves.

“I wonder how Jean is doing-” She murmurs, almost too quiet to hear “with is dad I mean.”

“Jean?” I ask lightly, pulling her legs apart in the air to see her.

“Well, have you spoken to him since his dad visited?”

“No actually, he’s not answered any of his texts…” It is a little odd really, he’s always been a fast replier, that phone is never out of his sight, “maybe he’s just that busy with that new lady-friend of his!”

“I guess his old man really is going back then.” She ignores me, I push her legs back together and continue, what is she talking about? Going back where?

“What?”

“Come on Con, back to Afghanistan I mean. It’s the only reason his dad would come visit in such a hurry.” But his dad’s not been back that long? That can’t be right-

“How can you be so sure?” I let go of her legs and she sits back up.

“I’m not 100% sure, but it makes sense. It’s probably best not to ask him about it though.”

“Well I’ve always been an idiot compared to you, so I guess you’re right…” I’ve had trouble with reading and writing since I was tiny. Even remembering stuff in general sometimes.

“Connie you’re not an idiot, you’re dyslexic.”

“Same thing-“

“No it is not mister!” She half-yells, pointing an angry finger at me. Sasha has always been one to snap at me if I talk down about myself like this, insisting that I’m smarter than I give myself credit for. Honestly I struggle to see it sometimes though- “If you were an idiot how could you remember all of our dance routines? Or how to make Pizza Pockets exactly the way I like them!”

“Thirty seconds longer than needed because you like it when the outside is extra-crispy.”

“Exactly!” I can’t help but grin at that, oh her food talk was definitely the way to my heart right from the start. I mean when I did finally have the balls to ask her out last year; our first date did circulate four of McDonald’s 20-pack chicken nuggets and the grit and perseverance of true superheroes, even if that night did end up with a trip to the emergency room…

 

Unlike Eren and Mikasa who’ve been dance partners since they were little, Sasha and I had only met during our final auditions to get on the M.R.S swing-jive course. We clicked clicked practically instantly; it felt like we were the only people who could match one-another in terms of speed and agility. I was always a quick kid, good at baseball, soccer, track- anything that involved a lot running really. But none of those things interested me as much as dance did. I’d sit up nights on end watching old films like Swing Time and Stormy Weather on constant repeat; I’d dream about being one of those Nicolas brothers dancing in the Cotton Club accompanied by some big, booming band. To have that same energy, grinning from ear-to-ear like I held the power of the sun inside of me; to dance so full of life it makes other people smile and want to get up and dance too. Sasha shares that appreciation with me, an admiration for simply making other people happy through dance. It doesn’t need to be serious to be incredible; we can be the best freaking dancers in New York City without having to go through all the blood, sweat and tears that others might. We don’t want to work ourselves so hard we can’t even tell if we're enjoying ourselves anymore. Jive lets us feel loose and free; it can be fast and difficult but also fun if you let it- sort of like life, or some philosophical crap like that I guess.

“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” Sasha asks me, stretching her arms up over her head. Unlike most, Sasha had chosen to stay at her parent’s home in Carnegie Hill on the Upper East Side. Not like I blame her by god her house is incredible! It’s always so warm and cozy inside, and smells like peppermint tea and fresh hummingbird cake- her grandmother is an amazing baker.

“I can’t I’m going over to Eren’s.”

Like Sasha, I’d been born and raised in the city; we both knew it like the back of our hand; though when it came to starting M.R.S I had chosen to move into my own flat- making friends with Reiner in the process. He'd moved up from Florida to attend and neither of us wanted to live on campus if we could help it; I would physically fight someone over my own bathroom and non-negotiating kitchen rights. We got on like a house-on-fire virtually instantly; both of us like Marvel over DC and share the same not-so-secret obsession with RuPaul’s Drag Race. Our apartment is decorated in an organised-mess which- on the Richter-scale between Eren’s hurricane aftermath of a bedroom and Jean’s sliver-sparkling, (borderline excessively) clean dorm room- sits comfortably central at ‘Cate Blanchett’s performance in  _Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull_ ’ level of mediocre cleanliness.

The town house where I’d lived was starting to get too cramped anyway, my little twin bother and sister are still always taking up _so much_ space with all their toys and shit. Sometimes I’d find Barbie’s and plastic fast-food play-sets lodged in so many extreme and unimaginable places that it was beginning to get scary. It’s not like I mind though, I get my own space and those two get the indoor fort that any 2 rd grader would dream of having.  I’ve gotta treat Sunny and Martin right anyway- they’re turning out to be like my tiny prodigies, just starting at a local kids dance club for themselves- I couldn’t be prouder of those little Rugrats.

 

Making my way over to my bag in the corner of the room I check my phone. Looks like there’s still no news on Jean… I hope he’s gonna be okay, and able to play the gig next week.  I mean, I’m in no way an expert on the guy’s feelings but I’m sure playing would get his mind of things, even if just for a little while.

The band is always the best form of stress relief, as soon as we play together nothing else really matters. The four of us are like brothers; even if we argue and don’t understand each other sometimes, we are still always looking out for one another; and our loud-mouth Jim Carrey personalities means playing together is one of the few ways in which we can all calm down and be on the same wave-length for once. I’m glad Eren had practically begged us to join back then last year; if he hadn’t god knows what I’d be doing in my free time right now, who I’d even be friends with. He and Jean had met at auditions, and I had met him having classes virtually next-door to one another. The three of us practiced a little together for fun, but it was obvious we were in dire need of a drummer. Eren had proposed we hold open-auditions, but when we did no one seemed to fit well our personalities all too well- they were all either too heavy-metal crazy or too shy that they looked intimidated by our rag-tag personas. Well that was until Reiner walked through the door. I didn’t even know he played drums, he had no kit at the apartment and he’d neglected telling me until then. Turns out he hadn’t played since his Junior year and was dying to pick it up again. He didn’t even know I was starting a band either but it worked; my new roommate, new friends and I all fit together like the wonderfully-ridiculous combination of broccoli and Cheetos. We’re like the Three Musketeers or something… you know, if there was four of them.

 

“-remember next Tuesday is my Grandma’s birthday so you’ve gotta come over that night, she’ll want to see you.”

“Got it, next Thursday.”

“No, I said Tuesday- are you even listening?”

“I’m sorry, just checking on Jean is'all.” 

“Still no reply huh?” She walks over and inspects the phone, “I’m sure he’ll be fine in a couple of days, just give him some space.” Grabbing my arm she starts tugging me towards the center of the room, “Now come on we’d better get at least some practice in before lunch!”

 

 

**Erwin**

 

“But why won’t you at least tell me who this guest is?” Levi follows me out the kitchen and down the hall towards the front door, ladle in hand and his legs moving double the pace of mine in order to keep up.

“I told you, it’s a surprise!” I hum. Eren’s going to be so excited for this!

“Yeah but do they like rouille? Or am I going to have to make something else because it’s already on the stove!”

“Whatever you cook will be fine.” I reassure, brushing my dress shirt down before answering the door.

“Good evening Mr. Smith!”

“No…” I hear Levi whisper behind me; ignoring him, I greet our guest as they step through the door. Levi has always well, had a bit of what I’d call a ‘personality clash’ with Hanji, head of office staff at M.R.S. Hanji essentially keeps the college website up-to-date, prints out flyers and the monthly newspaper, and helps to organize most of the events that take place on campus. She is a very fast and loud worker, dedicated and faultless but, to say the least- drives Levi up the wall. The two’s relationship isn’t harsh in anyway, Hanji seems to really enjoy Levi’s company; Levi is just, stubborn to admit he has fun too (which I’m sure that he does).

“I’m so glad you could come Hanji, and Erwin is fine- it’s after hours!” I chuckle taking Hanji’s coat and hanging it up.

“Oh god small-talk, I feel like I’m in The New Normal…” Levi hisses, turning to make his way back to the kitchen.

“Always a pleasure Levi!” Hanji snots, removing their shoes “Where is your boy then anyway?”

“Oh right!” This wasn’t just a casual meal after all; Hanji has only been kind enough to offer Eren a job working in her office. He was devastated after getting laid off work, and I know he secretly doesn’t like borrowing money all of the time. Eren is too courteous a boy to let Levi and I do anything for him, even if I want to. Hopefully this job will perk him up a little.

Sometimes Eren gives me the impression he still doesn’t feel like he’s part of the household, fourteen years and he can continue to act like a lodger in his own home, in some ways- more so the older he gets. I didn’t think him getting older would terrify me as much as it has; I thought he would be easy now he’s at college, studying virtually across campus from my office. But it hasn’t. I still worry like I used to back when he was little, when the wounds of Carla’s death were still fresh and painful, and I struggled to comfort him because all he would do is lock himself in his room and hardly say or eat a thing. Only when he started Middle School up until Senior Year was I able to briefly relax; Levi was there to help by then and Eren had turned into the passionate and smiling young man he is today. But now, now I worry about him on a different level; how he will mature, what he will do in the future. Did I raise him well enough that he has the chance to do what he wants with his life? I just want what any _father_ would want for their kid, he is still my kid. I just hope that in all this time Levi and I have able to leave some positive impact on him, the way Grisha was never there to do for himself. That we were able to somewhat fill in that parental gap for him before he reaches a level of adulthood where he might not need us anymore.

 I swing round the banister rail and hop up the first step, shouting up “Eren! Come down I’ve got someone for you to meet!”

“Okay!”

“Ask him which one of the Wolf Pack is up there with him.” Levi yells from the kitchen.

“Eren who is with you?”

“Um- Connie.”

“Ask him if he wants to stay for dinner!”

“Connie do you want dinner?” I hear Eren yell with the same brute-force, they must be on the PlayStation with headphones plugged in or something…

“Yes please!” Connie squawks.

“He says yes!” Eren calls.

“Levi he says yes!”

“What are we having?”

“Levi what are we having?”

“Fish stew.”

“We’re having fish stew Eren!”

“Connie is fish stew okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay!”

“He says it’s okay!”

“Levi, Eren says-“

“Yeah I heard the first _three times_.”

“Well,” Hanji chuckles “and I thought I was going to be the loud one here.”

“Ha, sorry about that. I think dinner is ready- why don’t we make our way through to the dining room?” I reply kindly, guiding Hanji through the double doors on the right.

“By the way Erwin your house is just as fascinating as I imagined- all these little ornaments and trinkets! You must tell me all about your latest trip over dinner.”

 

Levi has always been prepared when it comes to meal times; he has to be when around four out of seven days in a week usually constitutes our household of three expanding to accommodate one or more of Eren's friends eating their entire body weight in actual food, as opposed to the usual half-baked microwave meals they presumably snack on throughout study breaks. It's not that I don't cook, I do and usually it's a joint effort- Levi is just far more observant than I am when it comes to the culinary department. Levi just remembers the details; how Reiner won't eat fish and Jean won't eat large portions, and despite being small in frame- that Connie will eat anything and everything so make more.

It was quite surprising at first really, when I'd first met Levi he never appeared to me as the domestic type, more of someone who, although didn't dislike the company of others and a 'family' in general- preferred to take on more of a sideline role when it came to the trivial and cliché aspects of human life and interaction. I thought that because of Levi's upbringing, which he had told was 'minimal' and 'uninteresting', that he would feel less of an emotional connection with going to Eren's parent-teacher conferences and driving a Honda Civic across leafy suburban roads as he did.

I do know was that Levi never knew his father, and he doesn't talk to his mother or brother anymore but that's really about it. I don't really need him to tell me, I still understand who he is as a person without knowing the facts of his parentage. It's not as if his family is a solid example of himself; and it's apparent to anyone who knows Levi that he is a head-strong individual. He's able to detach himself completely from his apparently appalling upbringing in order to make a better life for himself, which he has. That's not to say I haven't tried to pry it out of him over the years, and sometimes there have been moments it really felt like he was finally going to tell me everything, but the late-night convocations over taking out contact lenses and turning out reading lights all end in the same way, _'it's not important'_. Levi isn’t a person who I feel has to be persuaded into love, just a person who sometimes needs coaching on what to do after he has.

Perhaps it is me, perhaps I am the one unable to present myself in a fashion Levi can find approaching, but then again Eren seemed to always tell me what was bothering him growing up, if he was missing his mother or feeling bitterness at the thought of his father- that’s why I like to think we have such a close relationship now, because he can come to me when he needs to. Levi and Eren, although similar in a sense, are not the same person and much different in terms of their emotional range. Eren is extremely up-front with any of his passions and often incapable of hiding his emotions. Levi on the other hand is more of a blunt personality, who will often savor emotions deterring from monotone until he is in the comfort of his own home. Or, perhaps I'm just not as good at reading people as I think I am.

 

"Levi your cooking is incredible!" Hanji muses, cramming multiple prawns onto their fork.

"Yeah, delicious as always Lev- Sir." Connie hastily retreats, swiftly looking back down at his dinner in embarrassment.

"Well, you can do anything with tomato puree and the guidance of Gordon Ramsey."

"Levi over here relates to that man on a cellular level... It's scary, almost at the point of worshiping!" Eren fake-whispers across the table to Hanji, making them laugh heavily.

"Alright alright I'm not ashamed of my Hell’s Kitchen box set.”

“You know Levi; you kind of look like him a little bit- is it the frown?” Hanji mocks playfully earning me a light kick under the table when I laugh in response.

"Very funny Hanji. I’ll make sure I remember one that next time you need me to restart your car when the snow arrives.”

“Harsh!” The two of them continue to playfully mock one another for a while; it’s obvious the two of them get along really. If Levi really didn’t like Hanji he would avoid any form of communication other than necessary for work purposes, he, like others must also fall easily for Hanji’s quirky charm and perhaps even more so given that the both of them- without realizing it- present themselves similarly in a fashion that can be particularly intimidating and even scary in their ardor under certain circumstances.

“Well anyway, back to the real question of the evening, speckles what are you doing in my house?"

"Levi!" I practically gasp, narrowly avoiding choking on the clam in my mouth. Does he always have to be so uncivilized for the love of god-

"I'm joking, don't burst a blood vessel! But seriously Hanji what’s the occasion?"

"Well," Hanji starts, putting her knife and fork down and turning to the boys "Eren, Erwin told me you were recently out of a job and I happen to have an opening for a new position. I was wondering if you would be interested?"

"Seriously!?" Eren grins, his hands smacking down on the table in excitement. I knew he would love it!

"Deadly! Oh and I didn't mention this to you Erwin but I'm thinking of extending the number of new employees I'll be taking on. I ran it through Mr. Zackly of course but well, Connie is it?"Connie glances up from his dinner in confusion, "How would you like to earn some extra cash too? And the other two in your little boyband that is of course! I was thinking each of you could write an article every month for the college newspaper, hand out a few flyers and make blog posts, that sort of thing?"

"Hell yeah! Pot washing at Wendy's- crap pay!"

"Oh my gosh thank you so much!" Eren stands up, stretching out his arm to shake Hanji's hand, Connie following suit.

“This is like cooler than one of those charging iPhone cases!” Not sure I understand the analogy but the sentiment is still there...

I struggle to contain the childish grin on my face as Levi tilts his head around towards my ear.

"Looks like you're proud of yourself" He smirks, "you spoil that boy rotten."

"Don't act like you don't do the same thing." I whisper, turning and looking down- our faces a fraction apart.

"Shut up" Levi leans forwards and kisses me sharply before standing and grabbing both our plates and Connie's from opposite him. "Now help me with the dishes Steve Rodgers, looks like those boys and their new boss have some shifts to discuss."


	7. Act 1: Reiner / Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day of the gig at Lenox Hill has arrived, lets just say Jean isn't the only person Armin is surprised to see...
> 
> (Hope you enjoy, feedback much appreciated and thank you!! Expect the next chapter to follow on directly woo)

**Reiner**

 

Bertolt, I have found, is not the quiet and stammering guy I had originally perceived him to be. I mean sure, he was a little shy at first but he loves to talk, a lot- and I like to listen. It was a few days after we had first met outside the auditorium when I caught him after class and asked for his number, then if he wanted to grab a coffee some time because he seemed funny and cute in a mix between Shawn Bradley and an alpaca kind of way. Turns out he’d had a shit day and said all he really wanted was something a lot stronger and so I whipped out my fake ID to snag a bottle of 12 year-old Bowmore and we sat in the 7-Eleven parking-lot listening to Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers through my earphones and talked about everything from life in Florida to Bertolt’s indisputable hatred for musical theatre and surprisingly, the entirety of the college in general.

_“I fucking hate pretension.”_

He had told me. Which, in theory seems like commonplace thing to be upset about, lots of people dislike others who gloat in their own successes. I can sympathize with him, if he feels inadequate among his peers, the college is filled with a lot of tough competition after all. But it isn’t that, he just hates it all, he wasn’t having a simple rough day hat afternoon, every lesson he spends in that class constitutes a bad day in his books.

_“Well I hate to be the barer of bad news but you live in New York; almost everyone is going to rub their talent in other people’s faces because that’s how they are going to get noticed.”_

He said sorry after that, because it isn’t that he hates all of these people- more that he hates the fact he was being pressured to be the same as them. Bertolt doesn’t want everyone looking at him; he doesn’t want to be on a stage in front of thousands of people. Sure he likes performing ‘regular’ songs, but he has no ambition to fill out a concert hall full of people, all he wants was to have fun and be ‘normal’, whatever that is in the sense. In his words, he'll be satisfied living out his life in a 'farm house in Vermont, with a fireplace and wooden beams on the ceiling, and taking his dog out for a walk before picking his 2.5 kids up from after-school reading class'.

Bertolt felt pretty mad at himself then, throwing out another string of apologies for being such a terrible ‘whiner’ for unloading all of his family and college issues on the person who’d just asked him out on a date. To me however, it had been that long since I’d invited anyone out that I’d practically forgot other people have more serious issues outside of making an obvious typo within a really good tweet. It still seems ridiculous to me that he felt like he needed to apologies anyway, like it is his fault his parents are grade-A assholes. I told him that and to try not let other people tell him what to do, because life is too fucking short to spend it making other people happy while ignoring yourself completely. Soon after our spontaneous heart-to-heart we managed to sober up to an extent that I was able to take him out to see The Man from U.N.C.L.E and grab a bite to eat from some BBQ food truck before walking him back to his dorm room.

I didn’t feel obliged to invite myself in or anything like that but asked if it was okay if we did something again some time, which we did on multiple occasions throughout the past three weeks from going out to dinner and visiting pet stores pretending to buy cat food when really we wanted to look at the various small rodents and play a game of ‘that one looks like you’. It was on the third date when I kissed him for the first time, when we were trying on clothes in the American Apparel changing rooms and Bertolt asked me if this elbow-length white shirt looked okay on him and he looked too cute peeking out of the damn curtain like a nervous deer that I did it on a horrific impulse. He seemed a little taken back at first, which was understandable- but after a moment or two he appeared to return it and we stayed like that until one of the shop assistants threatened to kick us out the store because ‘illicit activities’ in the changing rooms were against store policy apparently.  At the time part of me was a tad nervous as to what his reaction afterwards would be. Because although Bertolt had appeared eager to go out again that day, it was still up to debate as to if his opinion of me stretched any further than ‘friend and confidant’. It was really one of the reasons I had been hesitant to ask anyone out before that, I could sympathize with those girls that were obviously a couple yet still got labelled as ‘sisters from another mister’ in that way- sometimes it was hard to understand a persons motivations. For instance; I could hug Bertolt, and think ‘oh, this is kind of romantic- he must like me in that way too’, but then I could go home and hug it out with Connie when we successfully unlock an achievement on Portal and I’d never in a million years dream of sucking him off.

 To my unprecedented relief however our in-the-moment passion-fest in the store had extended to a couple more dates and a couple more kisses, just about reaching ‘making out on the sofa of my apartment while The Wendy Williams Show plays in the background’ level of seriousness. To the point we're now walking through Central Park, hands intertwined and ignoring the ever-growing chill of winter threatening to draw in and the fact we only have about an hour before our free-period is over; then it's back to pretending to enjoy singing Stephen Sondheim lyrics and sculpting an intricate water fountain with Aaron Francis, possibly the most over-demanding and controlling person in my class who I'd been terrorized into partnering up with on this particular occasion.

 

“Are you still coming to the gig tonight?” I ask lightly, eyes leaving a cluster of pigeons fighting over a half-empty bagel wrapper and up to Bertolt.

“Oh about that, my shift got swapped around so I’m not working at all. I could come with you to help you set up if you like? Connie said it would be fine.”

“Yeah that’s great, It’ll give you a chance to get to know Eren and Jean a bit more too.” Bertolt had met Connie the first time he came to the apartment to pick me up for dinner, that little shit could hardly keep the grin off his face while asking Bert if I’d worn my Paco Rabanne cologne yet because that was the sign I was ‘going in for the kill’, to which I could have shoved Connie off of our balcony that very second.

 

Bertolt has only met Eren and Jean properly on a few occasions, staying over after class for band practice which he seems to really enjoy watching, even if it does appear to make him feel a little disheartened. He got on with Jean straight away, probably because Bert had been wearing a Sonic Youth T-Shirt and Jean went into breakneck excitement pace over their pivotal influence to alternative and indie rock music. Eren took on more of a constructive approach however and told him that although Levi may seem strict and stern, he was only trying to help him but also if he really doesn’t want to perform, than Levi will eventually let up and leave Bert to do whatever he wants.

 _“Unlike me, god you’re lucky you don’t live with the guy. I don’t think he’ll ever let up on trying to turn me into the next Will Chase.”_  Eren told him, which is rather ironic given that I don’t think any of us actually know who that is without referring to the actor’s IMDb page. Eren can defend himself all he wants over musical theatre, but it's quite hard to deny- whether or not he just likes watching musicals and is in fact telling the truth that he has ‘no interest’ in performing in that medium himself- he is still painfully obviously clued-up on the subject to a considerable degree that it's difficult for us to believe he doesn’t fantasize about bursting out Hairspray numbers in his free time.

 

“Look at the time; we should start making our way back if we want to get to class on time.” Bertolt stops, looking down at his watch.

“Yeah I guess so, you don’t wanna skip or anything? I’m sure Aaron could manage one lesson without me to boss around.”

“No its fine, I think I’d feel worse if I left Ymir hanging again, I’ll never live it down in her books otherwise.”

“Well you’ve gotta admire her work ethic.” I joke, but he is right. I too would hate to get on Ymir’s bad side if I could help it; she would probably make your life at college a living hell. From influencing other people to give you the silent treatment, to putting laxatives in your drinks- her means and methods are virtually limitless so it’s best not to fuck her over. “Alright then, let’s head back.”

 

 

**Armin**

 

Where are they?

Impatiently I tap my fingers at the contemporary desk beneath me, rocking nervously back and forth in my chair.

Arnold said this band of his was meant to be arriving at five to set up, and its half past now… door’s open at seven and I’m so screwed if they’re not here by the time Arnold is back from the stylist. Urgh why did I even take this bullshit job in the first place? I mean sure, the experience looks great, ‘receptionist at an art gallery’, but I’m seriously beginning to doubt if this whole ordeal is worth it, the amount of stress all this preparation for opening night has caused me.

My whole bloody summer- spent calling caterers and checking the guest list and finalizing paintings and checking the guest list _again_. Having opening night only a month into the college year isn’t much help either, I’ve had about half the time as everyone else to finish assignments and practically no social life because of it. Annie had taken me out to lunch at this little bistro she likes all of once and even then I spent most of the afternoon nose-deep in my tablet organizing these pretentious-looking, illuminating turquoise drinks upon arrival.

It's safe to say my boss; ‘Arnold Archibald Jr.’ is the most lack-lustre man I've ever had the displeasure to work for. He's a total free-spirit who'd offered me ‘medicinal’ marijuana on multiple occasions, with long and slick-back grey hair and round-framed red glasses. He's the sort of person who speaks in a slow and practically hypnotizing voice as if he was constantly imitating Bill Nighy and wears at least three contrasting geometric scarves regardless of the weather. But it's all an act really, a façade to stand out as much from the crowd as he possibly can. He isn't even a ‘Jr.’, I’ve met his dad and his fucking name is Tony.

I’m pretty sure the only time Arnold has personally lifted his finger in regards to planning this entire evening was to book this flipping rock band who he has reassured me are ‘totally coolio’ and give off the same  ‘youthful vibes’ he wants his artwork to represent. I'm still not holding out a great extent optimism however, given Arnold has never actually seen the lead singer face-to-face because he'd spent his entire summer in Africa or something just as thought-provokingly charming, and that they are still  _yet_ to arrive. All this still in mind, I can almost guarantee Arnold will take practically full credit for all the work that has gone into perfecting tonight. Hell, he would tell everyone he cooked all the food if the chef and servers weren’t already slow-roasting a pig in one of the back rooms at this very moment. It's just in his personality, he is exhaustively egotistical which is made grossly apparent in every single thing he does: from the way he dresses, to the way his outlandish abstract paintings look, to the way he stirs his four o-clock caffè macchiato. Safe to say I’m feeling pretty bitter about spending my evening taking peoples coats and nodding my head as sweetly as I can muster as guests over-exaggeratedly compliment all the ‘hard work’ their host Arnold has dedicated to this gallery.

 

A loud ‘bang’ followed by the cool outside air hitting my skin has me jolting my head towards the source, the door crashing open.

“Hello, we have arrived!” A tall and excessively broad-looking blond booms, lugging two massive boxes under each arm. Shortly following him are four more teenagers around the same age as him and I, all carting masses of equipment and amplifiers, stacked so high I can’t even see their faces. “Sorry we’re late, we got a little lost- we don’t really travel somewhere this fancy that often. Over here?” The blond snorts, dropping the boxes atop the small stage set up on the far right wall, the only one stripped bare of works of art for the evening.

“Yes… Um, I thought there was only meant to be four of you?” I ask cautiously, eyes gazing over the five of them in confusion.

“Oh, this is Bertolt he’s my… friend,” The fact he made an obvious pause between the two words gives me the impression he would like to be more that a ‘friend’, either that or his band mates are yet to discover the true nature of the two’s relationship; the blond points to the tall lanky boy who begins setting one of the amp stands and lifting his hand up to me in casual greeting, “I spoke to your boss; he said we could each bring a guest- here’s the list.” The blond continues, jogging over and passing me a crumbled list of four names: Bertolt Hoover, Mikasa Ackerman, Sasha Blouse and… Annie Leonhart?! She knows these guys? I mean she said she had a group of friends outside of class but, this is not at all what I expected…

“…Fine, um okay.” I stammer, half-looking up from the paper and back to the boys who are all busy, backs turned and putting together equipment in such a non-shallot manor it’s almost ridiculous. “One of you needs to sign in.” I try sound as stun as possible, because who am I kidding, it’s a little intimidating how imposing and full of swagger they all look. This is _my_ workplace for petes sake. Get a grip Armin; don’t let them push you around!

“Jean you do it.” The small feliformia-like one chimes, strumming his guitar once in excited anticipation.

“Yeah whatever.”

Hold on. That… that voice, I know it from somewhere. My head snaps up completely as the footsteps of the boy reach my desk- oh god.

“Fuck.”  He gasps in realization, it’s the shower stalker.

“W-what are you-“ I start, I mean in theory I already know the answer. He’s obviously in this band, not that I can believe it. Out of everyone in this city, it could have been anyone! And it just had to be him! “You have got to be joking…” I huff, pulling out the check-in book from the top desk draw and slapping it down abruptly open in front of him.

“Oh jeez, hey I’m sorr-“

“Sign here.” I interrupt; pointing down at a dotted line at the top of the page. Well all of this explains Annie’s weird attitude the other week, she knew all along that it was him!

“Come on man, I’m not out to get you I promise!” He pleads, shaking his head and scribbling his name down on the paper, ‘Jean Kirstein’… kind of sounds French, not bad I suppose.

“And here.” He dips down lower and continues reading and signing, his collar-bone just about visible out of his grey v-neck- fuck Armin stop it! Although I couldn’t deny back then it was hard to ignore his toned body in-between spitting out violent insults… I mean anyone inclined wouldn’t pass up that opportunity, right?

“Can’t we just put what happened the other week behind us? Please.” My eyes lift back up sharply and meet his own, and it suddenly becomes difficult to stop my heart rate accelerating at how close his face is to mine which seems pretty idiotic of me given how far the two of us have already breached pretty much every aspect of personal space available.

“I- I don’t,” I stumble out; I can’t deal with this crap now! The guests will be arriving in an hour and I still have so much to do, Albert will be back any moment and throw even more tasks at me, why did it have to be him?! It would be so much easier to say ‘yes’ and put it behind us right now, the way he’s staring at me, he looks so sincere- his voice; who am I kidding, it sounded just as mesmerizing as it did back in the shower block… how gorgeously he sung, it was completely transfixing I couldn’t help but be happy that he’d joined in. But he was _right outside_ my curtain, and now he was here! It was almost surreal how our paths had intertwined once again. Unless, unless he knew- oh god what if he knew I worked here that’s even scarier! “Um, can you write all your names here please?” I point down again and quickly look away, anywhere.

“I know how this must look,” He starts, head turning down to write again “but I’m not some stalker or whatever you think I am. Believe me this seems like some kind of Inception bullshit to me too…”

“Band name?” I demand, taking the book back and picking up the pen for myself.

“Shouldn’t you already know this?” He nags, starting to get irritated at my lack of understanding “104th Element.”

“Mm… Rutherfordium.”

“What?”

“Rutherfordium. It’s the 104th element in the Periodic Table?” I reply flippantly, surely he should understand what his band name means for goodness sake? Instead he just stares at me blankly as if I’d just stepped out of some obscure 80’s Sci-Fi novel. “You mean to tell me you just happened to name your band ‘104th Element’ for no reason whatsoever?”

“We were smashed and watching the Discovery Channel-“

“Jean hurry up! Don’t think I’m setting up all your shit on my own.” One of his band mates shouts, breaking the ever-growing and practically nauseatingly awkward tension between us.

“Mhmm.” He hums ignoring his friend completely, “Listen… Armin?” to which I notice him glancing down at the name-tag on my shirt and opening and closing his mouth as if contemplating his next words carefully, but before he can even say anything else his band mate, a brunette boy just a little shorter than him dives over and slings and arm across the other’s shoulder playfully.

“Anytime Buddy the Elf, you can make friends later! Hey, I’m Eren, Jaeger- as in Pacific Rim-” He jokes, a casual smile hanging loose on his face before it drops in a mixture of confusion and then to utter disbelief- exactly the same as my own.

“Eren… Jaeger?” I whisper, surely not- “I bet you don’t remember me…”

“A-Armin? No way…”

“Am I missing something here?” Jean interjects, eyes flicking between the both of us rapidly.

“Of course I remember, I still have that picture of us at Coney Island on my desk for god sake…How long has it been?” Eren breaths shakily in the same amount of pure disbelief as myself, ignoring Jean’s demands for an explanation. Now this day was just getting weirder and weirder…

“Must be ten years… I can’t believe how similar you look.”

“Your hair is longer, I never pegged you as the ponytail kind of guy!” He grins, lips up-turning and giggling. “W-what are you even doing back here?”

“I got an art scholarship, at M.R.S-“

“You’re kidding me? Armin we all go there too-“

“What? You’re still dancing? That’s amazing! I figured you might have moved away to do basketball or something…”

“Pft as if! Dancing is like embedded inside of me now, believe it!” Who’d have thought that those lessons to help him with his co-ordination would have influenced him that much “And move away? I’m land-locked- I literally live with the Vice-Principle remember?”

“Mr. Smith? Wait- that’s the _same_ Smith? Your godfather?!”

“How did you not realize? He was around before you left-”

“I was eight, like I’d remember, and come on Smith is like the most common name on the planet!” I laugh, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all, and getting up off my stool to walk around towards Eren “Besides, I missed the induction assembly so I’ve never even seen him- too busy at this bloody place!”

“Okay guys this is all very heart-warming but fancy letting me know what on earth is going on right now?” Jean interrupts, gesturing his hand between the both of us- and curling his lips upwards with sarcastic affection plastered plainly across his face.

“Right! Jean, this is Armin. He was like my best friend back in Elementary School. My mom and his mom met at when they took us for a check-up when we were babies or something and the rest is history.” I extend my hand in awkward introduction, as to spare Eren’s sanity to the fact that Jean and I already knew each other to a degree no one would be comfortable with explaining in such a situation. Jean obviously takes the memo copying my actions and shakes my hand hesitantly.

“My mum- m-mom always tells me the story, apparently I was being a problem child over getting some shots and yours stepped in to help her because you used to be just as bad.” I grin. It never really mattered that Eren was a year older than me. When it came down to it, even though we weren’t in lessons together at school we would always play together during recess and it never created a divide between us.

At that time, Eren was, well he had it really rough- not that I can really remember much up until leaving for England, but I do remember Eren was always very sad, and _angry_. Never at me, and not particularly at anybody else but- if kids were ever mean or would pick on me he would totally lash out, like he could use that as an excuse to cover up what he was really mad about was loosing his mum… and is biological father for that matter too.

“Erwin always said my mom had a soft spot for people with babies…” He trails off looking down to the floor and swallowing heavily. I reach my hand out to rub his arm gently.

“You look great by the way, you good?”

“I’m… great” He smiles sincerely and looks back at his friends, “Um, I should get back to helping those guys set up?” And with that he makes a quick 180 turn back to the stage to which I can only shrug off as pre-performance jitters; or perhaps it was wrong to bring up the topic of his mother in convocation, even after all these years.

 

It wasn’t long after I left Eren and Jean to carry on with preparations that Arnold returned- dressed flamboyantly in a horrific faux fur purple tiger coat and a fucking fedora- then proceeded to demand I help the kitchen staff around the back until guests started to arrive. Now it's about an hour into the evening and I’ve not had the chance to speak to Eren again who’s most likely sat in a back room somewhere with his band getting ready while I’m being thrown thousand dollar coats and bags left, right and center and being rushed off of my feet by people with such fancy names I’m afraid I cannot begin pronounce most of them. Just as I finish hanging up the coats in my hands in the cloakroom, I hear the door open again and return to great the guests, opening speech in mind as if I was working at some sort of high-class, ritzy drive-thru. Three girls, a brunette, dressed quirkily in a knee-length floral plunge dress, a silky black-haired girl in a smart two-piece deep blue high-wasted trousers and crop top and, Annie following behind them in a pencil black skirt and blouse. The three of them together look strong but still somehow friendly, charisma and elegance in their stature like they're Charlie’s Angels or some other female-orientated tri-force ready to take control of the entire building–

“Hey Windsor!” Annie hums, stepping past her two accomplices to great me “How’s work going, need me to break that Willy Wonka looking turd yet?”

“You! You knew it was him- the shower stalker, Jean!” I hiss quietly, my eyebrows piercing together in annoyance.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry but it was pretty good you’ve got to admit! M n’ S, come meet Armin, my first-year friend I was telling you about!” The two other girls come over and greet me, both beaming as if the three of them all had some disastrous plan devised.

“Ooo is this the one that Jean got frisky with in the shower?” The brunette giggles, leaning over to give me an un-compromising hug.

“Oh great, how many people in your squad actually know about that?” I growl at Annie, I’ve been at college all of about a month- how am I supposed to deal with being on the front-lines of second-year sex gossip?

“Just us it’s fine, Annie only told us because she thinks you’d make a good couple.”

“Couple?! You’re fucking with me right?” As if I’d want to date him, I mean he’s cute yeah but… kind of scary-looking in a young, Willem Dafoe kind of way. Wait, for all I know he could be straight or taken or-

“Relax we’re just messing with you- keep it on the low-down though would ya? Jean thinks he’s pretty incognito but really, it’s obvious where his priorities lie. You should see him every time we watch a Zac Efron movie-“

“Sasha, leave to poor boys alone. I’m Mikasa by the way- the dorky lead singer’s girlfriend.”

“You’re Eren’s girlfriend? Mikasa, hey aren’t you the girl that he started to dance with back in Elementary School?”

“Wait- you’re, _the_ Armin? Small world! Eren talked about you all the time, he was gutted when you moved away. Have you spoken to him at all yet?”

“Yeah we spoke earlier! Oh I know though, at first it used to be pretty scary, being apart.”

“Well it looks like you still did great for yourself anyway!  We all need to hang out sometime; I mean you’ve already made friends with Annie and Jean so it looks like you’re basically initiated into this pack of hooligans as it is!” She chuckles, although I’m not sure ‘friends’ and ‘Jean’ quite qualify to be used in the same sentence just yet…

“Generic sound verification noises- testing testing, one two…” Eren jokes from the stage, tapping the microphone lightly.

“Ooo it looks like they’re starting, let’s get near the front!” Sasha yells, grabbing mine and Mikasa’s hands despite my protests that I’m actually still meant to be at work, with Annie shortly following behind with far less enthusiasm. Well, I guess I have no choice given the way Sasha is grasping hold of me like I’m her new personal security blanket. Looks like it’s time to hear Mr. Shower Elsa sing once again…


	8. Act 1: Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-ass part two of the Lenox Hill gig time!! In which Sasha and Connie might have a few relationship issues and Jean is embarrassingly socially awkward- hope you enjoy!! Feedback much appreciated thank you <3
> 
> 5SOS Music Ref- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ym6NDDRFHvc

**Jean**

 

 _“Every day it's the same a_ _ll the games that you play!_ _Back and forth round and round, k_ _inda like it this wayyy_ ”  
  
Fuck yes, nailed it! I was practically shitting myself waiting for my little solo but it seems to have paid off just fine, everyone in the audience seems to have enjoyed the set. Even mystery boy- I mean Armin, is dancing and grinning wildly, the girls taking him and Bertolt under their wing in an absolutely adorable cluster-fuck of everything from fist-pumping to full-blown side to side body waving. The host seems to be enjoying himself too, his arms wrapped loosely around the waists of two million-dollar looking young women and nodding his head in fine, drunken appreciation.  
And then there’s Ian.He’d arrived late about fifteen minutes into our set, a taller and larger-built man in tow who I can only presume is an associate of his- and they both continued to stand close to the door with their eyes locked on the stage. Their expressions were pretty unreadable; giving only the odd smile of encouragement on occasion but otherwise continued to stare intensely and whisper into one-another’s ears which was, without a doubt, utterly terrifying. I was trying to ignore them best I could, I’d look like a complete ass-hat if I messed up because I was too nervous. Performing didn’t make me frightened really; it was just the thought of their eyes on me which was making the hair on the back of my neck stick up something terrible and the fact that if I screwed up now my whole chance would be over. What was also leaving my knees threatening to twitch was the thought of afterwards, what if Ian goes over to talk to Eren and the others? What if he tells them? What if they get angry I kept it from them for so long? Fuck it, why was it their business before my own? Come on Jean you already decided you’d wait to tell them after you knew for sure!

_“Don't stop doing what you're doing”_

Damn I’m too busy worrying about it all to actually focus on what I’m doing, I’ve practically had my feet glued to the floor this entire performance and this is our closing number I need to make a good impression, I need to stand out from these guys!

_“'Cause every time you move to the beat it gets harder for me and you know it, know it, know it”_

I don’t care how much of an ass that makes me sound, this is _my_ big break! If I can’t even out-stage any of these guys then how am I meant to within the whole scheme of things?  I let Eren finish his last line before I jump forward into the repeated chorus-

 _“Don't stop doing what you're doing”_ Leaning into Eren’s microphone, I share it it with him- glancing to the side I see him smirking back at me, grinning at my new-found charisma.

 _"Every time you move to the beat it gets harder for me and you know it, know it, know it”_ I practically thrash at the strings of my base, yet trying to make it appear as easy as possible- like the instrument is just part of me, letting my body rock to the beat of the chorus. Eren’s got his hand up in the air- jumping up and down like a madman, he’s such a showman it comes so easily to him. People have so much fun watching him I can’t help but be a little jealous of him always having the lime-light; I guess you could say I’m not always the best team player.

 _“Don't stop, 'cause you know that I like it, e_ _very time you walk in the room you got all eyes on you a_ _nd you know it, know it, know it._ ”

And with that we hit the final note and the song ends. The audience cheers profusely, clapping and hollering and bursting with the same Adrenaline we are on stage. Eren slings his arm around me; his eyes scrunched shut and laughing hysterically.

“That’s my Jenny! Where the hell did that come from?” He shouts into my ear over noise, his voice is hoarse and tired but still buzzing with excitement.

“Can’t have you stealing the show can I?” I reply sarcastically, resting my forehead against his and catching my breath.

“We should share the mic more often!” Eren chimes, which frankly- although I attempt valiantly to not let the smile on my face fall even a fraction in response- rips my heart a new one.

 

*

 

“Congratulations- looks like everyone in here enjoyed your performance” Ian smiles, shaking my hand, “This is my associate Mitabi, we both agree your charisma on stage is spectacular, I’m glad we got a chance to see you.”

“Oh wow thanks!” I reply, shaking both hands and quickly glancing around to see if any of the guys have seen me. No thank god, looks like they’re all busy with praises from girlfriends other distinguished guests.  “But, I don’t think I can take credit for charisma- Eren’s much more of a performer then I am.”

“True he is a showpiece, but I hope you don’t mind me saying- your voice utterly steals every moment you’re on stage.” Is this for real? I don’t think I can control the way my eyes practically bulge out of my head in response. They actually think I’m better than Eren? But, but he’s like the lead singer and, and he’s always the one people applaud! “Your friend would probably be suited to musical theater.”

“Yeah he gets that a lot…”

“Well it was nice catching up, sorry I know this was quick but we really have to get going. My flight back to L.A. leaves in a couple of hours but I’ll be back around the end of October. I’ll keep in touch!” With that both men exit out the door in a flash, leaving me stood frozen in response. Busy life of busy people I guess.

“Holy shittt…” I whisper through my teeth, a month. A month and I might have a real recording contract! I’m sure I can keep it from the guys for that long… until I know for sure.

“Hey, who were those guys?” Reiner asks, stepping up behind me and watching the two men through the glass doors as they cross the street.

“Oh- just some guests saying they liked the performance.”

“Sweet, seems everyone enjoyed themselves.”

“Well it’s all thanks to you for landing it.”

“I mean I’m not going to say I’m a genius or anything. But I totally am!”

“Alright alright ‘genius’ don’t let power get to your head! Now scram and go find your date I need a sit down.”

“Calm down cupid- but yeah the girls snagged us a table upstairs if you’re looking.”

 

I make my way past all the half-drunken guests sipping their cosmopolitans and dry martinis and pretending to actually understand what the fuck kind of obscure paint-splattered and geometric pieces of artwork they are looking at. I spot Connie who’s pulled up a bar stool alongside a deep plumb corner sofa occupied by Annie and Mikasa with Armin perched in-between the both of them, all four of them in deep convocation.

“Hey Jeany-boy.” Connie coos, backhanding my butt jokingly as I step past him.

“Wudup discount Chace Crawford” Annie mocks, lifting up her glass of soda, “do you have anything to spice this up a little?”

“And if I do what do I get in return?” Reaching into my back pocket I pull out a small flask of vodka.

“I wont fucking kill you that’s what.”

“Fair enough” I negotiate, leaning past Armin to pass her it, who eyes the flash cautious but says nothing. “You want some?” To which he just shakes his head awkwardly in response. “Mikasa move your damn legs you’ve literally taken up this entire side.”

“No sit next to Armin my feet are aching in these heels.” And so I step past her and plant my ass down, sighing in relief after being stood up so long before Mikasa leans her head down onto my shoulder like I’m her personal head-rest. She does it to everyone really, like she’s some sort of feline (viciousness and all), her practically favorite way of unwinding being Eren stroking her head or massaging her feet. I mean yes, she would conduct herself in a very mature and proper way for the most part; acting like the adult of the group, bit it didn’t stop her from kicking back and relaxing, wherever- and in this case ‘on who ever’- if she wanted.

“Shouldn’t you be working or something?” I question Armin, turning to face him and earning an elbow to the gut from Mikasa “Ow! That’s assault!”

“It’s fine. I’m virtually off the clock now it’s late- I won’t be needed again until morning to tidy this place up.” To which I nod casually in response and steal Annie’s drink off the table to take a swig.

“Don’t be so rude he’s Eren and Annie’s friend ya know?” Which to be fair, she was right to remind me of because my naturally jerkish attitude would not bode well with either of them if I was to be rude to not-so mystery boy. “Oh and by the way, who were those two old dudes you kept looking at while you were on stage?”

“I wasn’t looking at anyone.”

“Bullshit Jean, you looked like you were so emotionally constipated I was just about ready to throw some Ex-Lax on stage.” Okay so I guess it was petty useless trying to hide anything from Mikasa, I mean it would be okay to tell her right? She was the best advice giver, like with my dad. Maybe she would be able to help me decide whether or not to tell the guys about the record deal.

“They were from Shinganshina Entertainment.” I whisper out the corner of my mouth, eyeing cautiously over Connie and Annie who are both fighting each other over Connie’s phone in Annie’s hand, held high above her head.

“You mean like the record company?” Well looks like Armin is listening in too, make that two people to add to my kill list if they let the news slip.

“That’s the one. They um, they might be offering me a recording contract…”

“Are you serious? That’s amazing Jean!” Mikasa pulls up from my shoulder to look straight at me, “Wait… Eren and the others don’t know do they?” It wasn’t really a question as it was a guess, and she’d hit the nail on the head perfectly.

“It’s not solid yet, I didn’t want to tell them in case nothing comes of it.” I rely honestly, looking down into my hands. “Do you think I should tell them?”

“I think you should do what you think is right” She replies flatly, returning her head to my shoulder, “I won’t say anything to Eren if you don’t me to, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Thank you.” I answer sincerely.

“We’ll say no more! Right Armin?”

“Promise.”

“Sound.” I pick up Connie’s glass from the table and take a swig, “So then, what’s up with you ya half-baked cookie?” I snort, putting the drink back down.

“Excuse me?” Armin replies, in an amusing mix between confusion and flat-out offence. 

“Your voice, it sounds like the chemical bi-product of Kate Middleton and Steve Buscemi.”

“Oh- my mum and dad were both originally from Brooklyn, but we moved to England when I was eight for my mum’s work. I grew up hearing their accent but then going to school in the UK, ended up picking up those mannerisms and way of talking. Why does it sound that bad?”

“No no, it actually makes your singing voice really unique.”

“You sing too Armin?” Mikasa queries.

“Who can sing?” Connie joins in, his phone happily back in hand.

“I don’t.” Armin replies sharply.

“Um, yes you do.” It’s not as if my accusation was flawed – _I had heard him_. What was the point in acting as if the whole notion of humming out a Disney tune was frowned upon in what is basically considered the very heart and soul of artistic presentation, as if it were some crucially unorthodox avenue of self-expression?

“No I do not!”

“Well then don’t do it in the god-damn shower if you don’t want people to know!” Can I honestly have once conversation with this guy without it turning into a full-fledged, borderline political debate?

“Painting, singing and dancing- how quaint, Armin you really are the full package.” Annie hums into her drink, shrugging off our spitting at one another as nothing more than playful chit-chat.

“Wait you dance? Jesus are you a fucking paleontologist too?”

“ _He does Latin!_ ” Mikasa sings, lifting her hands up to the roof and clicking rhythmically.

“I-it’s just morning classes before lessons, for exercise. That’s why I’m in the shower so early.” Well at least it’s all starting to make a little more sense, except the part about him not wanting people to know he has a killer voice- but I guess its best not to bring that up again right now, like Mikasa said it’s best not to piss the new boy off if he’s Eren’s pal. Besides talking to him about his apparent salsa lessons seems far more interesting alternative…

“So, do you have to wear like those really tight pants and low cut shirts?”

“Oh my god that was so homosexual.” Annie sighs around the glass, her eyes rolling back into her head in witty judgment. Which fuck, it probably was. I really need to watch what I’m saying, although Connie’s attention span to casual convocation was about as strong as that of a goldfish, so I didn’t really need to worry about him. Even if it did sound like I’d just pulled out the least elegant pick-up line in my arsenal, I was still just as curious… 

“No I don’t do it that seriously, you want lessons or something?” He giggles, fucking giggles which I have to admit was so down-right adorable that it could have easily stepped off the pages of a Rainbow Rowell book.

Wait hang on a moment Jeany-boy, backtrack. ‘You want lessons or something’- Was that, was that flirting? I mean surely not given our minuscule but highly congested track-record… not that I was the best at telling anymore. Practically the only times I’d flirted (other than one-sidedly) with another guy was at ‘certain’ bars or after evening classes where the convocation never really escalated further than ‘wanna fuck?’ before we were into the nearest toilets or supply closet.

“You offering to teach me?” I smirk, to which I swear he turns about three shades redder as he looks away and shit- was seems like a pretty good achievement from my perspective. This in mind, I wasn’t trying to act in a similar way towards Armin as I had those previous guys- and as much as he was undeniably hot with is golden hair tied up contrasting insanely with his black-on-black jeans and tucked in dress shirt to the point he was giving off such aesthetically pleasing vibes similar to that of Kit Harrington’s Jimmy Choo photo shoot- I am not trying to get into his pants tonight. How could I? I’m not exactly some gross, hormonal ass-detector and Armin is only at the border-line stage of not thinking of me as some crazed, bathroom psycho.

Besides, Armin seems different. Not that I can decide whether my new-found fascination stretches only as far as his obscene manner of speaking or in fact his whole persona, which seems to be comprised of enough cliché-breaking surprises from his sarcastic comebacks to the fact he enjoys the seemingly innocent Frozen but also finds exercise within the form of sexy Latin hip swirling. Either way he interests me, and I want to get to know more and more about him, if he will allow it.

 

“Hey babe” Sasha hums, making her way over to Connie and into his lap so he’s able to wrap his arms around her waist, “you know there’s some really fancy people here tonight, I just met the choreographer on The Jersey Boys!”

“Hey sugar, now gimmie some.” Connie coos, pouting his lips until Sasha plants him one- leaving both me and Annie fake-heaving with our fingers pointing to our mouths.

“Oh grow up the both of you!” Sasha laughs, letting Connie rock the two of them side-to-side in his arms.

“You two sicken me. Go home already!”

“Well actually that’s what I’ve come for, Connie you ready to go?”

“Oh shit!” Connie gasps, obviously just remembering some critical detail before his eyes fall down on his glass on the table.

“Please tell me you haven’t been drinking Connie I told you that I needed to be back early because my Grandma has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“Yes I’m sorry Sash I totally forgot you needed a ride back, I was just gonna leave my car here until morning!”

“Urgh, I swear to god Springer I’m going to start writing all this shit on your forehead!”

“Well actually if you write it on his head then he’s never gonna see it- look at his scalp, bastard don’t need to look in no mirrors!” I laugh in a desperate attempt to defuse the rapidly rising tensions, pointing over to Connie and earning a chuckle from everyone else, even Sasha who shakes her head and rubs her hands over her face in surrender.

“Ohmygod shut up!” She giggles “How am I supposed to get home?”

“Don’t worry Sasha, Eren and I can take you back.” Mikasa saves the evening, shifting the position of her head to stop it falling off my shoulder.

“Thanks hun. Now come on mister you gonna give me a dance to make up for this or what?” Sasha stands and pulls Connie along away with her, towards the stairs to the dance floor area below.

 

It's surprising really, no one can deny how well suited Sasha and Connie are for one another- the both of them are like Bert and Ernie, inseparable and completely in-tune with one-another. Watching them dance is visually spectacular, how parallel they are with one another physically. This in mind however- when moments like that one come around it becomes debatable whether or not this synchronization is virtually divert in terms of their mental statuses. Connie will forget things all the time, it's nothing new. From homework deadlines to date nights, his mind is constantly running elsewhere and it has become a running gag between us, a harmless one really. Still, sometimes I worry he’ll take it to heart, but Connie has inside of him such a dark and unorthodox sense of humor that the others never think it phases him and so they carry on all the same.

Sasha is the one I really worry for. Because although she's a very difficult person to upset; some may even say a push-over to an extent, I can tell that somewhere deep within her that a fraction of her patience crumbles away each time Connie messes her around. It isn't that Sasha is a wimp, incapable of telling Connie his poor concentration skills are causing a strain within the relationship, but every time she does the topic will be defused until it becomes simply another inside joke between us all. Maybe the others know it too, maybe that was why we will always interject with some witty remark or rapid change of subject- because like myself, we're all terrified of the day Sasha eventually blows a fuse- all scared of the impending waterworks that will follow their first ‘real argument’ of it ever is to erupt. Because heck, if those two, out of all people- Sasha and Connie, the dynamic duo, the new-age Laurel and Hardy, the seemingly perfect couple- can’t hold it out, then where is the hope for the rest of us?

 

“Excuse me am I interrupting something here?” Eren’s voice pulls me back, and I look up to find him glaring profusely at me in a manner that was so uncharacteristic compared to his overjoyed attitude onstage it was extremely apparent I had done something to upset him. Shit, was he talking about Armin? I mean we are sat really close but am I really being that obvious? Who am I kidding I’ve literally said like one flirtatious thing to him all night I wasn’t doing anything wrong-

“I- I’m not doing anything buddy.” I stutter, adding to the rising and frankly unnecessary guilt residing within my face.

“Mikasa come look at these dope paintings, I’ve not spoken to you all night!” Eren launches towards her, grabbing her arm excitedly and ignoring me completely. What on earth-

“I’m coming I’m coming.” Mikasa sighs, lifting her head off my shoulder and stretching out her legs “See you later Armin!”

“Yeah Arm- we’ve gotta catch up soon!” Eren spills out, although it’s obviously apparent he isn’t really directing himself at the blond and is instead too preoccupied tugging Mikasa away with him practically as soon as she gets onto her feet. That was it? He’s not seen Armin in god knows how long and that’s all he says?

“Oh, okay…” The disappointment on Armin’s face is astonishing, god it was like someone had kicked a puppy, no doubt that feeling must have sucked- Eren’s not made a single effort to speak to the guy since earlier which was odd given Eren was very keen to make friends all the time, from me and the others, to the people in his class, to Marco from the Pizzaria and even his folks friends- and he was just as keen to play house with Armin earlier. So what changed to make him suddenly avoid his old friend all together?  It was like Eren relished in surrounding himself within the company of others and would want to know every insignificant little detail about their lives, but was mortified at the thought of anyone stopping to ask him the same questions- we all had to move at Eren’s pace and if Eren wasn’t in the mood to talk to you right now, then you wouldn’t talk.

A couple of moments pass before Annie follows shortly after, excusing herself to the bathroom which I can guarantee is utter bullshit given the way she shoved Armin against me in an ‘attempt to reach for her bag’ when it had been right next to her for the entire evening.

And then there were two. Oh god this is going to be as awkward as that time Connie and I got kicked out of Macy’s because Sunny and Martin were sprinting up and down the isles yelling ‘Usain Bolt ain’t got nothing on me’. Armin seems too quiet a person to start up convocation, especially with me. Should I say something? Should I leave too? No that would just be rude damn-

“Well that was fucking awkward.” What.

“What did you just say?” I gasp, my mouth agape; well it would seem my initial impression about him was wrong yet again. Perhaps I should stop trying to decipher his motivations all together.

“Well it was! Does Eren think his girlfriend is cheating on him with you or something?” He’s practically attempting to hold back his laughter but frankly the whole idea of what he’s implying makes my heart rate increase somewhat dramatically. Eren wouldn’t think I’d do that, I mean we’re like best friends…

“W-what? No! I’m not- I would never!” Eren was talking about Mikasa? But she does stuff like that to everyone she wasn’t being flirty, and I _definitely_ wasn’t-

“Okay okay, calm down! Hey hey I’m sorry, here relax.” He sooths, putting his hand on my- on my lap oh shit- “Listen, you wanna get out of here? No not like that! It’s been a long day; I just kind of want to get home if you’d get the subway with me? I’m not- I’ve not got used to riding on my own on a night yet.”

“Um” I start, glancing down at his hand still resting on my thigh, praying the colored lights of the gallery mask the pinkness in my cheeks “Okay, let me just grab my- my base.” I tumble out, rapidly standing and leaving for my equipment and glancing around rapidly in the hopes none of the others saw that display, which was actually, well the first time I’d ever been so public with another, with another- oh fuck it I’m being such a baby!

 

It’s virtually pitch black by the time we make it back onto campus, the moon is pretty much non-existent given the amount of clouds and sky-scrapers surrounding the university, our path pretty much only being illuminated by the buildings nearby and the military-positioned street lamps. It’s pretty quiet which is rather strange, no loud thumping music can be heard and all that really tickles my eardrums in the faint sound of the obtuse water feature in the middle of the footpath and the occasional cab horn sounding. We’d talked rather a lot actually along the way, mostly about how classes were going and Armin’s friends in England and sometimes when he _really_ got into it I had to get him to repeat because I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. We're walking pretty quickly, which is kind of deflating since we're alone and it's dark and it would be the perfect time to try some old-fashioned flirting without the watchful eyes of Eren, Reiner and Connie on the back of my neck. But it's cold. Really cold actually. The air is clam but sharp and it feels like tiny little needles are jabbing into my cheeks, giving both Armin’s and my own a soft pink tint. I’d been lucky to have been wearing a denim jacket during to set to avoid what the four of us guys dub ‘pretzels’ which was code-word for, ‘dude you have some serious under-arm sweat patches going on’. Armin on the other hand was not so fortunate, and given the fact I'm holding my hands tightly under my armpits in a sad attempt to retain some bodily heat, the poor blond must be frozen out of his pale skin clad only that thin, black dress shirt of his.

“I don’t understand why you’re not telling Eren or your other friends about your record deal. I mean it sounds like a great opportunity, I don’t see why you’d want to keep something like that to yourself.” Armin comments, breaking the past five minutes or so of speed-walking silence.

“I don’t _have_ a record deal. Yet. Listen, you’ve not seen Eren since you were a kid right? He’s not exactly the best person to come to with this sort of news- Eren is like a physical metaphor for the Pirates of the Caribbean theme tune, the boy has no chill whatsoever. He will just flip out if I tell him _believe me_.”

“Eren’s not like that.” Armin replies flatly, breathing into his hands and rubbing them together. Oh my god yes he is! Armin has no clue how Eren can be, how can he not see it? Even Mikasa seemed iffy when I said I wasn’t going to tell the others yet, despite what she said I bet she still thinks I should. Damn I shouldn’t have told either of them about any of it. I can’t tell Eren stuff like this- I, I can’t tell him anything!

“Don’t tell me you think the sun shines out of that guy’s ass too?” I grunt, grinding to a halt. “I saw how deflated you looked when he ditched you for Mikasa tonight; it’s why you were practically itching to leave afterwards.” I jab, Armin stopping too and turning slowly to face me, his posture tight and unnerved. “Come on then spit it out- how long have you been in love with Eren for?”

And I regret it instantly, the way his face falls, the way the whole air just becomes instantly engulfed by silence and not the sound of the fountain nor the passing cars, or even the slight buzzing of the street lamps can cut through the dead-pan atmosphere between us. I regret it instantly because I shouldn’t even care but I do and it freaks the fuck out of me. This bubbling in my gut, the way my jaw clenches at such a restricting level and I don’t even have the power to loosen it. This, jealously- and of what? Am I jealous that Eren is always the winner, always the side people take? Definitely. Am I jealous that Armin might very well _like_ him, might want to be with him and not with me? Maybe. And it was utterly ridiculous of me because what right did I have to feel that way? To be so clingy and needy towards a person a hardly even knew, a person who hardly even liked me as a human being let alone anything more?

“You’re such a jerk.” Armin whispers, his face screwing up in disgust, “Oh my god you’re such a jerk, urgh.” He says a little louder, glaring at me again before shaking his head and walking ahead of me, his arms wrapped tightly around his chilling frame.

“Hey Armin stop!” I call after him.

“Just fuck off will you, _god_.”

“Come on I’m sorry!” I jog after him, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around. He doesn’t resist but lets his arms fall lazily at his sides as he looks up at me in irritation. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole okay, it's embedded within my DNA.”

“I’m not in love with him. I’m not.”

“And I’m not in love with Mikasa either. See? This is a two-way street.”

He doesn’t say anything but nods his head once and bites his lip, looking down and kicking his feet against the pavement.

“Listen I’m sorry that Eren made you feel like shit tonight. He can be, well, complicated. But I don’t want to be at each others necks every time we meet so can we please just _be friends_?” Part of me contemplates reaching out to touch him, so he would just look up again. That and the fact I can see him shivering profusely in front of me. Nothing seems appropriate however, and all that can carry me through this shamble of an apology is a poorly composed sentence in a desperate ramble to reach a mutual understanding- because I don’t want to let mystery boy go just yet. “You know, if Eren doesn’t wanna put in the effort with his cool, singing, salsa dancing friend then is it okay if I do?”

He stays silent for a long time, and all that sits between us is the fate sounds of passing cars and my own shaky breath catching hold of the brisk fall air.

“You’re so weird…” Armin laughs quietly, shaking his head at the floor.

“Yeah well, so are you.” And then he looks back up at me expectedly- and its like his eyes are big, fucking blue gems, so bright under the street lamps it makes me feel weak. Like they hold inside of them some great incomprehensible power, untouchable by any normal person and they’re staring right into my own, frankly it’s more nerve-racking than any spotlight on any stage I could ever perform, “So why don’t we just be weird together?”

He stands just staring at me for a long time, his eyes still in concentration as if he’s trying to find some deeper meaning within my words. Either that or to see if I’m bull-shitting everything I said and it’s only when he seems to have made up his mind does he hum in satisfaction and a small smile spreads across his face before he turns around and starts walking again, leaving me speed-walking after him in order to keep up.

“That was honestly the most flamboyant friendship proposal I’ve ever had.” He smirks, a tiny laugh spilling out and he steps ahead, spinning around to walk backwards facing me.

“Well,” I grin, throwing my arms out either side of me “it is New York!”

“Okay then, as a distinguished New Yorker tell me Jean Kirstein, what does being your friend exactly entail?” Armin quizzes, turning round on the balls of his feet back to my side.

“Well, we’ve definitely got to watch the entire Austin Powers trilogy together, back-to-back no exceptions.” I start, pointing my finger down at him assertively. “And obviously you will have to learn everyone’s Panda Express order off-by-heart because those animals are serious about their Chinese food!”

“Meh, I’m more of an Indian guy myself.”

“I know right! Oh you’ve made my day!” I sigh over-exaggeratedly, placing both hands over my chest and fluttering my eyes to which he laughs even harder. “See, this is why we make good friends.” We make it to A-3 block and like the gentleman I was raise to be, open the door for Armin and we both step in and sigh heavily at the sweet release of the cool air outside. We continue with our convocation as we make it up the stairs and soon enough Armin stops outside he door and rummages for his dorm key in his pocket “I will have to introduce you to some of our other friends too,” I continue as he opens the door and steps inside, spinning around and holding the door open with his shoulder “like Historia and her girlfriend Ymir who actually might be-“

Then I freeze, because god only knows how I would be able to pull this back now. I'm such an idiot! I really don't know how to keep my mouth shut and now it was going to wreck whatever _this_ is that we had just started-

“Might be what?” His face contorts a little and he shifts his body to keep the door from sliding back.

“They might me… I was going to say- well, I- they,” I close out my eyes and let out one final shaky breath because what else is there for me to do now except tell him? Maybe, maybe it was the best thing to do. Maybe I’d blurted it out because I _want_ to tell him. Because I want to know what side of the proverbial fence he sits at too, “they might actually be gayer than I am. Is what I was going to say…”

I dare to open my eyes when I hear no sudden reply, or slamming of the door for that matter. Armin’s head is slightly slanted, his mouth open in an ‘o’ shape before he cautiously bites the insides of his cheeks and starts-

“I’m- I’m guessing you’ve not really said that out loud many times before?” To which I can’t reply at all and just purse my lips together and shake my head rapidly from side to side, frightened if I try to speak at all I’ll end up blowing chunks all over the place. “And I suppose that’s another thing you’ve negated telling Eren?” And again I nod with the shameful vigor. He nods in understanding and stands his body up fully, lifting his arm to hold the door open still with his hand “It’s nothing to be ashamed of you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” I choke out, swallowing dryly and it honestly feels like I’m going to pass out, the freezing air of the outside world seeming far more inviting than it had previously.

“Well, thank you for telling me I guess-“ He says awkwardly, neither of us exactly knowing how to stand our compose ourselves “you are not what I expected you to be at all.”

“What, did you not expect me to like dudes or something?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to be this honest. I mean, sure you’re keeping secrets- but when you’re talking like this, when it matters- it seems like you really say what’s on your mind.” He smiles reassuringly which is probably the comfort I needed to allow my lungs to take in some much-needed oxygen.

“Well if it’s any constellation I do speak bullshit on some occasions,” I grin lightly, shaking off my nerves and trying to return to a somewhat orderly state “ _meaninggg_ \- I don’t actually think you’re a psycho… or a paleontologist.”

“Oh, and you’re happy about that? You got some beef with dinosaurs or something?” Armin smirks, craning his neck backwards in amusement.

“I don’t care if you think my phobia is irrational; I will never see a real one and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Roar.” He mocks as he takes a small step backwards inside although I make no attempt to follow him.

“Ooo terrifying” I shake my head, taking a step backwards of my own to show I’m not trying to invade his space or anything like that, “well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” I take a few more steps backwards and begin making my way down the hall.

“Tomorrow? Why?” He asks in confusion, jerking his head around the door frame to watch me leave.

“I’m thinking of getting an early shower,” I half-yell, daring to give him a small wink and spinning around quickly before he even has chance to respond “later!”


	9. Act 1: Ymir / Hanji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but here we are- I really loved writing Ymir and Hanji, it was such a change from Jean!
> 
> Music reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_DCV2nwWuk

**Ymir**

 

‘ _Acting is standing up naked and turning around very slowly.’_

Sorry Rosalind Russell, but I call bullshit.

You see because if I’m naked, there is an extremely high chance that Historia is naked too, and if Historia is naked- well that’s private. But whatever, that doesn’t sound like acting to me. I don’t need to put on some fake-ass ‘Keeping Up Appearances’ crap in order to perform, it’s just an extension of myself. I don’t need to be brave or anything; I just have to do it. I _want_ to do it. I’m good at it. As for the singing and dancing, that’s just part of the’ Ymir premium expansion pack’. They both come pretty easily as well, but I do like to keep myself in top form just in case. Palates every morning at 8:30 before class, drinking at least three watermelon and grape smoothies a day, and reciting a good ten ‘I saw Susie sitting in a shoe shine shop’s' in the shower. No one believes my schedule when I tell them; I could probably buy a nice new pair of sneakers if I got a dollar every time Thomas Wagner asked me if I had a shot of Disaronno inside my smoothie bottle. 

But just because I have some crazy soccer-mom schedule doesn’t mean I’ve got a stick up my ass; I like to party, a lot. Historia does too which is actually how we met, we were both at this Christmas party last year and she was sporting this adorable pastel-pink open-back dress. She was dancing all crazily like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face with some of her gal pals when some 6 ft dick-turd started grinding up on her to which she turned around, and without that precious smile on her face faltering an inch, promptly told him to, ‘remove his semi from between her ass cheeks before she ripped it off with her bejeweled acrylics’. I fell in love instantly.

 

As I was saying though, I’ve somewhat come to the conclusion that people’s opinion of me seems to fall to either side of the proverbial see-saw while I balance in-between. People think I’m either this care-free, drunken party animal or the poignancy of all Broadway professionalism. I’m a fun person, I’m fucking hilarious believe me, it’s just that I like to keep my career goals professional, because I’m going to get on a proper stage if it’s the last damn thing I do. I belong up there; I work harder than anyone else in that class, I’m better than anyone else in that class. You could call me an asshole if you want- it’s no skin off my back.

 

“You shouldn’t frown so much, it’ll give you wrinkles.” Historia hums, her head lying contently on my shoulder, curling a loose strand of hair around her index finger.

Yeah you can trash-talk me, but say anything about Historia and we’ve got a serious problem.

God she is beautiful; so much so it makes me often wonder what she could see in a bitch like me. Probably made other people wonder that too. Yet oddly enough I can’t feel bad about it. I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m not good enough for her- even if it’s true. I just want her for myself, and I’m happy to flaunt it off for as long as she is. Two happy little non-American lesbians taking on New York together, it has a nice ring to it after all. Historia was only from over the border, she was French Canadian and her family lived up in Quebec while I’d traveled all the way up from Argentina with my scholarship. We both spoke fluent English so that has never been an issue, but fuck her accent was still sexy. Historia’s family was quite widespread, a little bit in Canada, to here in the U.S., all the way over to France itself. I on the other had left the whole gang behind when I moved up here, I did miss them all sometimes, my dad especially. He was the one who introduced me to theater in the first place, we lived in the capital and he paid for classes even though my mom wanted me to do something less ‘extravagant’, but Dad always knew I liked to be the center of attention. One time when I was twelve he took me to the Teatro Colón to see L’elisir D’amore and even though I didn’t much care for opera, the venue itself changed me by such a considerable degree I’m still unable to even fathom the way it moved me. The high ceiling, the curtains, _the lights_ \- and it was at the moment I heard the crowd’s final cheer pulsating against my eardrums _\- I knew_ I needed to be on a stage like that.

“I’ll never get wrinkles babe, no one is going to see me get that old.” I snort as I pull my arms up and wrap them around her, rolling her over on top of me so I can see her face head on. We’d stayed in bed all morning; I didn’t have any classes today, something stupid about the College newspaper needing the auditorium or whatever. Historia on the other hand had about a half hour before she needed to scoot to her fashion design class which I wasn’t happy about in the slightest.

“Not getting old? Don’t tell me you’re planning some sort of escape from civilization before you reach 30?”

“Well you could come with me, I’m sure we could manage just fine as cavewomen. It’d be cosy-“ I smirk moving my hands down past the small of her back to cop a cheeky feel, it’s not like she needs to be at lesson _exactly_ on time…

“Nooo!” She whines wriggling to try escape between my arms “I’ve got to pick up some fabrics from a friend in my dorm before class.” She chuckles lightly at the pout formed on my face before kissing me once on the lips and climbing up off my bed.

“ _No te vayas!_ I’m going to be _soooo booooreddd_ without you!” I whine jokingly, using my back and elbows to propel myself up and down on the bed in a false temper-tantrum.

“Well then, why don’t you go and practice with Bertolt? I’m sure he’s not busy, you could go over some songs with him.” I crane my neck and observe Historia over by the mirror in the corner of the room, tying up her hair into a high ponytail before grabbing her campus I.D. and putting it round her neck.

“Pft fat chance! That guy is fucking useless.”

“Don’t be so horrible to him!” She half-yells grabbing the closest thing she can find, which happens to be an old hoodie draped over my desk chair, before launching it in my direction like a vigorous whip. I easily deflect the impending clothing attack and sit up chuckling. “You know he hates doing it, give him a break.”

“I do know he hates doing it which is exactly why I wish Mr. Levi would hurry up and give someone else the part. This year is important to me and Bertolt’s just going to make me look like a pile of shit if he doesn’t quit or get his act together.”

Urgh it’s so infuriating!  Bertolt has talent I’ll give him that, but fuck he does not suit being up on stage at all. He’s too quiet and always in some state of existential crisis which he clearly has no ability to hide. He walks around like a sasquatch but is about as apprehensive as a social anxiety-ridden antelope. Honestly, Brandon ‘bozwogged ballsacks’ Walton from Levi’s third-year class could do a better job at this point!

“You could never look like a pile of shit Ymir” Historia reassures me, grabbing her bag and hooking it over her shoulder before stepping over between my legs and looking down expectedly “now I gotta go, I’ll see you later okay?” She coos, dipping down to catch my lips with her own.

“Mmh- okay-“ I mumble between short kisses, her presence somewhat calming me down.

“Don’t miss me too much.” She giggles, pressing one last peck on my lips before straightening her back and making her way over to the door.

“Love ya babe.” I hum, flopping downwards on the bed once again.

“Love you too, dipwhit.”

 

 

**Hanji**

 

“Alright boys it’s time to get down to business!” I chant, clapping my hands together twice, the four teens whip their heads up from their respective mobile devices and up to me on the stage, all except Jean on the end.

“Um Hanji why are we in the auditorium again? I mean it’s not exactly the ideal location to write a newspaper?” Eren calls, bringing his legs up and crossing them awkwardly on the theater chair.

“Be careful on the seats Eren, Levi might go into cardiac arrest if you get dirt on the cushions!” Connie snorts sarcastically, swatting Eren to put his legs down.

“Oh god, the horror!” Eren fake-gasps before turning back to me “But Hanji really what are we doing in Levi’s passion pit?”

“Excellent question Eren; Levi was kind enough to let me borrow his pride and joy of a theater for the afternoon. And by Levi obviously I mean Mr. Smith let me borrow it and ignored the multitude of words not appropriate for your youthful ears that Levi subsequently brought in his direction. _Anywayyy_ , it has come to my attention that if I am to take you four boys under my wing as my new part-time columnists then I ought to know a little more about you all, how you tell stories, your sense of humor; then I can know what sort of articles you can write. So come on, tell me a little something about yourselves! Something different, obscure, Jean” The brunette’s head snaps up instantly from the phone not-so-subtly hanging out his jacket pocket, “why don’t we start with who you’re texting? It seems to have got you smiling like a love-struck pre-teen!” His face turns bright red in an instant and he rapidly shoves the device back in his pocket, mumbling out an apology before cursing the three boys snickering next to him.

“I’m kidding I’m kidding! No ones getting put under the spotlight don’t worry, I just thought a spacious environment like this would let your… imaginations flow a bit more ya’ know?” I spin around, waving my hands around a little to the stage surrounding me as the boys follow wide-eyes and cautiously. I guess I’m not exactly as ‘in with the trends’ as I used to be… they probably think I’m a few sandwiches short of a picnic in retrospect.

Truthfully I practically jumped at the opportunity of taking on some younger staff when Mr. Smith said his boy was out of a job- Still, I don’t really know how to connect with the students anymore. But I don’t want to let the college magazine die because if it does then the upper-crusts will send all the flyers and posters to reprographics and that means I’ll officially be out of a job.

“So, do any of you have any ideas on segments you’d like to write?”

“Well I figured I could write something about Rose campus? Since I’m the only one who actually takes classes there.” Reiner offers kindly, leaning forward casually in his seat and twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly.

“I could do some stuff about Sina then too?” Jean adds, turning his head to Reiner and then back to me for approval.

“Sounds like a plan.” I grin, walking towards the edge of the stage and sitting down, my legs swinging off the end- the loud noise as I hit the wood floor making all four boys jump a little; why are they so nervous? I’m not scary am I? I mean I know there are some _crazy_ rumors about me being excitable but that is just not true, I am composed, I can be professional, or down with the kids if I have to be- yeah, I’m cool… I think.

“What about us?” Eren and Connie chime in together.

“Well Connie, you could write about Maria campus if you like? And Eren you seem to be pretty sociable, why don’t you write something about the college in general, events going on around the city? Or you could do some musical reviews? I know you and your dads go to the theater a lot.”

“ _Musical reviews_?” The teen scoffs, his face contorting in disgust “Yeah no thanks, and they’re not my dads by the way.”

“Right, sorry. Well it’s up to you anyway- I’m just happy to have some help.” I answer sincerely and look down at my hands. Crap, I should have been more careful before talking about his dads- not dads.

“You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?” I hear Reiner grunt to Eren, but before the shorter boy can fathom a response I interject,

“Its fine no musical reviews!” I blurt out, shaking my hands at the both of them “Say Eren, do you know the wifi code for in here? I need to connect my laptop.”

“Ah, no but it’ll be in Levi’s little office backstage? I’ll go get it.” He offers, getting up from his seat and hoping up the few stairs onto the stage “And sorry for snapping.” He mumbles before jogging past behind the stage curtain.

 

Not a moment after Eren leaves, the front doors of the auditorium swing open and two teenagers, a brunette girl who practically runs down the strip towards the three boys on the front row, and shortly followed behind her a very lanky limbed and _very tall_ boy.

“Bertl? What are you doing here?” Reiner questions, although he’s got a massive smile plastered on his face so it seemed obvious he’s not annoyed in the slightest by the intrusion.

“Sasha and I just went for lunch together and she wanted to come over to say hi to Connie- and I came to see you too of course.” ‘Bertl’ answers shyly, bashfully giving Reiner a quick kiss to the cheek to which I can hear Jean hum out a small line of Eric Carman’s, ‘ _All By Myself_ ’ in irritated response.

Gracing my eyes away I spot the girl curled up in Connie’s lap comfortably, the both of them laughing at some video on the girl’s phone,

“See you totally thought he was dead right?!” The girl practically yells before turning around to face me excitedly, gasping and momentarily covering her mouth with her hand, “Oh darn it I’m sorry for gate-crashing your work session! I’m Sasha by the way, and that’s Bertolt over there.”

“Pleasure, and don’t worry about it! We’re just putting some ideas out on the table.”

“Well Connie why don’t you ask about the paper?” Sasha pouts, twiddling with the little guy’s ears.

“What about the paper?”

“You wanted it a different color so you could read the stuff easier.” Different color, what? Connie obviously registers the confusion in my face as he explains,

“I’ve got dyslexia, so sometimes it can be hard to read on white paper. I was gonna ask if you could print out some colored copies of the magazine and flyers you do, you know for me and other students who need it?”

“That sounds like a great idea Connie!” I answer honestly, hopping down from the stage and pulling out a notepad from my laptop bag, making a note of the request.

“Where’s Eren by the way?” I hear Bertolt ask, looking around the auditorium.

“I have returned!” Eren sings, throwing his hands out either side of him- honestly he looks pretty natural up on the stage on his own like that… “You guys will never guess what the wifi code is!”

“What?”

“18-06-20-05!”

“ _And_? Is that supposed to mean anything to us?” Reiner asks in confusion.

“The 18th of June 2005, it was the date Levi first played Sweeny Todd at the Eugene O’Neill. Look here” He continues, pulling a bunch of articles from behind his back, “He even has newspaper clippings of the reviews in his office!”

“Well he’s probably proud of his accomplishment that’s all?” I offer up, I knew Levi had done one proper show run in the past; it was before I’d started working at the college but plenty of staff had told me about it. To be honest I hadn’t even been surprised it was Sweeny Todd that he'd played; he definitely could be frightening enough to pull it off. He got a good reception, he was proud of it- although apparently didn’t take it past that one six-month run, or any other rolls for that matter- he said he didn’t like having all eyes on him or something like that-

“He’s such a show off!” Eren smirks, arms folded across his chest “He’s like this at home too; Erwin has pictures of him in that barber get-up all over the place!”

“Levi is not _that_ obnoxious Eren.” I try to defend, yes I liked to tease the man occasionally but that doesn’t mean I don’t get along with him.

“He is! And now all he does it try push his one-off Broadway stardom onto me, isn’t that right guys?” To which all his friends nod in agreement, “ _‘Eren you would be so much better on Broadway!’ ‘Eren all you do is slack off with that band of yours!’_ ” The boy mocks in a ridiculously deep voice “Honestly, he thinks he’s the king of New York or something Like- _Ya don’t need money when you’re famous, they gives ya whatever ya want gratis_!”

“ _Such as?_ ” Jean joins in, and part of me wonders why I took a job at a performing arts school in the first place. Because although I had gathered the ode to Newsies which was about to take place, and couldn’t deny how well it fit with the topic in hand, I never signed up for some sort of impromptu musical number while bitching off about my co-worker, even if it… if it did seem like a fun idea. No Hanji you are meant to be the adult here!

“ _A pair of new shoes with matchin’ laces…_ ”

“ _A permanent box at the Sheepshead Races…_ ” Connie joins in, shortly followed by the others, all the teens stepping up and Bertolt practically being dragged by Reiner onto the stage alongside them. How do they even know all the words to this? I thought Eren hated musical theater-

“ _Look at me: I’m the King of New York_!”Eren steps out from them all; he’s pushed his hair into a curtain fringe somewhat similar to Levi’s and he points out his hand sarcastically, strutting to the front of the stage in his new-found character, each pop of his feet with exact precision “ _Suddenly_ _I’m respectable, starin right at'cha, lousy with sta'cha_!”

“ _Nobbin with all the muckety-mucks, I'm blowin my dough and goin deluxe!_ ” Jean follows suit, hopping over to Eren, parting his hair in the same fashion and pulling exasperated faces, his hands on his hips.

“ _And there I_ _be!_ _Ain't I pretty? It’s my city. I'm the king of New York!_ ” They both sing out like some comedic Laurel and Hardy double-act, spinning around to face back-to-back, each falling back on the balls of their feet, the weight of one another and their arms flapping in the air keeping them upright.

It’s not long before all the teens are singing together sarcastically, taking on one-liners for themselves like they’ve had it practiced a thousand times, even pointing to the nervous-looking Bertolt and encouraging him to join in too.

The thing is I know this song and all the words too. I can see where they are going with this as well. I’m the supervisor here; surely I should be the one stopping them from essentially ridiculing a staff member. But it’s Levi, and his kid is one of them- he’d see the funny side of it all, right?

“ _Am-scray, punk, She’s the king of New York_!” Eren hollered, pointing his finger towards me, the other five looking on to me expectedly. There it was, they wanted me to join in.

“Whod’a thunk… I’m the king of New York.” I mumble, rolling my eyes and the ridiculousness of it all.

“Come on put a bit more heart into it!” Eren hollers, accompanied by a few boos from the others. Reiner and Connie skip down the steps grabbing a each of my hands and dragging me into their little mischief circle before all singing again,

“ _We was sunk, pale, and pitiful!_ ” My four new apprentices falling at my feet and clinging to my jeans, pouting their lips and fluttering their eyes like a pack of lost puppies.

 _“_ _Buncha wet noodles!_ _Pulitzers poodles!”_ I finally give in, pulling the four boys up, who begin cheering and clapping wildly at my involvement. I’d been lucky enough to have a little singing talent of my own, nothing amazing but it worked in context. Not that it seemed these teens would mind either way, too busy caught up in their own adrenaline-filled bombardment of laughter and over-exaggeration, each of their free-flowing movements accompanying news fits of laughter.

 _“Almost about to drown in the drink-_ “ Sasha teases, pulling at Eren and Jean’s ears before being cut off by Reiner,

“ _When she fished us out_ ” He points to me before Connie dives onto his back, his little arms clutching around the blonde’s shoulders for support,

“ _And drowned us in ink!_ ”

It’s like I’m loosing my senses in the whole performance of it all. It’s not like the song itself is particularly important right now; but it’s these kids, their energy, their enthusiasm to express themselves, it’s utterly addicting in the best way possible, almost as if they are making me remember being that young once too. That in itself is probably a pathetic conclusion, that I’d use the playful wit of these students simply to fill that void, the youthful part of me which I missed. That part of myself which was now buried too far deep within me, under mortgages and paperwork and bills and all the mundane and dismal aspects of human existence.

I’m not the quirky reporter Katherine like the song would have it. I’m not reporting for some big-brand newspaper, I print out field-trip approval forms for crying out loud. It’s too late and I’m too old for anything exciting like that. There is no big story coming my way; or a lover to come whisk me off my feet. Not that that bothers me really, I’m happy. Hell, like I’m going to wait around forever for someone to ask _me_ on a date themselves, Erwin’s bumbling secretary Moblit would never pluck up the courage- I suppose if you want something doing, you’d best do it yourself instead of sitting around and blaming the world around you because some teenage scoundrels singing Sondheim songs have it better. Yeah, I’m not going to sit and wait for stuff like that to come to me anymore, I hope Moblit likes spicy food…

“ _I gotta be either dead or dreamin,_ _cause look at that pape with my face beamin-_ “ Eren and Jean continue, their hair still pushed aside and continuing their Levi façade, gripping the newspaper clippings in their hands and running rings around the rest of us in a ridiculous manor “ _Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it,_ _but I was a star for one whole minute!_ ” The two of them practically yell, pointing one finger into the air and linking their arms together before laughing hysterically, clearly taking immense pleasure in belittling the little man.

 

Before the pair of them could ever put their laughter under any form of control, the sound of the auditorium doors slamming shut with a vigorous and terrifying force. The loud ‘bang’ instantly producing a chilling, silent tension among everyone in the room, all of us too afraid to look up to the source of the noise.

“You know, when I gave in and let you use the auditorium, I never imagined it would be for you to pretend to be 18th century paper boys. Or rather, me? If I’m not mistaken that is.” Levi muses, walking slowly down the isle towards the stage, his face is composed but the smallest and most frightening smile is present across the thin line that forms his lips. No one dares to move but I can feel Sasha shaking slightly next to me. I lower my arms slowly to my sides, eyes never leaving the small man as he continues up the steps and onto the stage. “But you know, I don’t really talk like that.”

“Levi… I am _so_ sorry.” I practically gasp out, stepping towards him which he defuses with a swift raising of his finger before stepping past me towards Eren. The boy doesn’t look particularly worried, but he’s not the grinning fool he was only a minute ago either.

Eren opens his mouth and closes it again, looking down at his guardian uncomfortably, finally unhooking his arm from Jean’s; who at this point looks just about ready to pass out.

“Do you still remember the tap routine for this number?”

“Wha-“ Eren starts, his mouth hanging open in and pulling back his head in confusion.

“ _I said_ \- do you still remember the tap routine?” Levi replies plainly, looking down to his arms and rolling up the sleeves on his shirt “That goes for you boys and Sasha too; we all went to see it remember? And I know for a fact Bertolt knows it because we learnt it during spring semester.”

Well that was unexpected. I was ready for a few well-thought-out curse words followed by a multitude of reasons why I would promptly be fired without even a months notice, but this seems- okay? In a scary-Levi kind of way that is…

“Um, you’re not… mad?” Eren quizzes, his head tilting to the side and glancing over at his shrugging friends before back to Levi.

“Mad? No. Disappointed, a little. I mean I thought you would have at least got a Shirley Temple or a Bombershay in there, at least _something_ before the dance break” The man continues, brushing his feet across the floor smoothly before clicking the heels of his feet against the floor sharply before snapping it flat down again, then continuing the same motion of his other foot, “like this.” He smirks, stepping out and displaying said Bombershay once before looking back to Eren and extending his arms out for the boy to copy.

Well three minutes in and I still have a job and all four of my limbs… this is concerning….

Eren seems to be experiencing the same internal struggle as myself. However- being in no position to argue with the man who was essentially holding his entire college career in the balance over a Broadway tap dance interlude- Eren steps forward cautiously and copies Levi’s same move in a much slower and far more reserved fashion.

“Come on brat you look like you’ve been holding in a shit for a week!” Levi grins uncharacteristically, smacking Eren’s arm lightly with the back of his hand before performing the same move again “Where’s that ol’ Fred Astaire attitude you usually parade around with? You really gonna let yourself get shown up by a guy twice your age?”

Eren pauses, studying his guardian’s face inquisitively for a moment, almost as if he was trying to find some hidden meaning behind the man’s unexpected burst of kindness. It was all pretty surreal, because although I don’t pretend to know what Levi is like within the comfort of his own home, it’s safe to presume that seeing this guy smile was about as bizarre as seeing a Pomeranian in a lab-coat to Eren and his friends as it was to me.

“Not a chance old man.” The teen’s lips curl into a devilish smile; finally satisfied with his carer’s reaction.

And it seems the two of them are ready to start a god-damn tap dance battle, I guess. Fuck, arts people are weird. But at least I still have my job…. I think.

“Buffalo, Cincinnati, _go_.”


	10. Act 1: Eren / Marco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down at the Smith household...
> 
> Thank you, hope you enjoy!! <3

**Eren**

 

Levi used to be quite the dancer when he was in High School. He would probably be still dancing competitively to this day if he hadn’t been for ‘the accident’. Came off his motorbike, he was wearing all his gear but fucked up his ankle, so it was safe to say any lengthy stretch of pirouettes were out of the question. Not that you could tell though, no, because even if it hurt to do it for too long, Levi could still dance as wildly as smoked fish off the fire. That in retrospect sounds like a stupid metaphor but it is the truth all the same. Watching Levi perform feels rich and honorary; his presence is golden and he has an almost aromatic crisp about him, similar that of a perfectly seasoned pot dish. His voice feels warm and rustic, like fat cigars and leather, everything about him is fine-tuned, aged effortlessly like some glazed, pastoral joint of meat, tender to its bones.

It irked me.

It irked me that I wanted to simply tolerate Levi, not look for his guidance and his comfort and his calm like a son would want from his father. It was the same way I felt about Erwin, but they weren’t my dads; my real dad was a jerk, that’s what I got. I drew the short straw at the asshole father Olympics, he was my mom’s husband and she was the only mother I wanted, I couldn’t accept Levi and Erwin as my parents without disregarding her, and I’d _never_ do that. Which meant Grisha was my father and Jaeger was the name I was scared with.

That was exactly why it was so difficult, because I wanted to banish the parental feelings I couldn’t help but crave from Levi and Erwin, I wanted to be content with being un-content. It just sucks for me that Levi and Erwin happen to make me feel like fresh apple pie and Friends reruns and worn guitar strings and _warmth_.

 

How Levi wasn’t mad at our little on-the-spot charade to his over-blown ego was beyond me. Jean and I enjoyed acting in character, he knew that, but we’d never fucked him over like that before. I was ready to be out of a job, scholarship and a social life all in one for the foreseeable future when that door slammed shut. But no, I was on stage with him and my friends, singing and doing every tap step I knew from the Irish Pullback to the Double Maxie Ford and I was very much alive and smiling wildly.

It was fun.

Crap! Not that I was going to let Levi know that. No, I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. Saying I liked performing arts would lead to taking performing arts classes which would lead to spending more time with Levi which would lead to becoming more addicted to the idea of a happy little family than I already was. And that… that would lead to leaving Mom behind for good. No. No I can’t that’s not right. I can’t be happy like I was before she died, it’s too good a feeling to keep hold of forever, and yet also deadly.

 

“ _Look at me:_ _I’m the king of New York!_ ” We chime out, all following Levi’s gaudy moves precisely and I can’t tell if it’s the overall ambiance or just the fact he’s really fucking short, but the whole mirage of intoxicating jazz hands and rhythmic claps that create somewhat of an atmospheric youth which swallows him whole, even if he was border-lining 21st century definition of middle-aged.

“ _Wait and see: This is gonna make both the Delanceys_ _-_ “ I spin on the heels of my feet to Levi next to me and the two of us scrunch out faces up in childish giddiness “ _pee in their pant-sies!_ ” We snicker out before he grasps hold of my hands and dips down to which I automatically kick my leg over and turn, rapidly pulling Levi through my legs and back up the other side of me. The whole move seemed awfully nostalgic in nature, although ten years ago the roles would have been reversed, yet it would seem Levi’s 5’3 build wasn’t exactly made to toss around lanky limbed 19 year-olds like they were Frances ‘baby’ Houseman.  
  
“ _I guarantee:_ _Though I crapped out, I ain't tapped out! I’m the king of New-_ “

“ _History!_ ” I feel the weight of Sasha jumping up onto my back, shortly followed by Jean’s arm slinging over my shoulders and Connie practically rugby tackling me by the waist.

“ _Front page story,_ _guts and glory, I'm the king- of New York!_ ” We all fall into a fit of dubious laughter on the final note, out hands flayed valiantly towards the non-existent audience as if where opening night itself and among the teenage heckling and over-active clapping from Hanji I can just about make out the sound of Levi chuckling before he pats me on the back applauding.

“Wow, not bad for a Harry Styles wannabee!” He smirks, his hand hard enough it forces me forward a couple of steps away from the others.

“Well I’ve been going for more of a Jonas Brother kind of vibe but I’ll take that!” I retaliate and dip my head cautiously as to not draw attention to the abundance of positive energy radiating from the giddy dimples on my face.

“… I wish you would do theatre.”

And there it is. Again.

It’s almost sad the way he says it, there’s no irritation in his tone which is odd, but his calm demeanour could still very well be compensation between his racing breathe and attempt to defuse any lactic acid building up, he’s not a spring chicken anymore after all.

“This again, look I’m not-“

“I get it I get it, I’m sorry just,” He pauses before pressing his lips into a tight line and patting me on the arm once before shoving his hands into his trouser pockets “never mind.” Shaking is head, Levi jogs off the stage, and gives the others a small wave before turning to look back up at me. “It’s just me and you for dinner tonight, Erwin’s got a meeting, you can invite Mikasa over if you want.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Levi,” I stop him from walking away and twists his neck back once more, “I’m sorry for the, you know-” I reply bashfully, gesturing the stage around me, which the others seem to notice and begin their own string of nervous apologies.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, why would I pass up an opportunity to get on stage myself? ‘ _I’m alive at last, and I’m full of joy!_ ’” He obnoxiously hums before trotting down the isle and waving his hand without looking back even once.

 

***

 

“-so then I said, ‘Well Jean, why don’t you just buy one of those desktop vacuum cleaners?’ But then he went on this whole like, existential rant about corporate greed and big companies that sell electronic cleaning products having rapidly increasing prices and how hard it was to find a good deal on any hand-held electronics that are both a decent quality and value for money. Then he was all like ‘this is an abomination to our modern day society’ and at first I though maybe he’d been remembering all this anti-conglomerate revolutionist talk from binge watching Mr. Robot while you were in Botswana, but now I’m starting to think it’s more then that. Like his cleaning OCD is getting out of hand, every time we go to pick Reiner up from his place for our Thursday afternoon IHOP run, I feel like Jean’s going to get heart failure because Connie doesn’t always keep his Walking Dead comics in mint condition. Like, I’m serious, Annie and I even started looking up symptoms on WebMD the other night it’s just so-“

“I’m sorry but do you really have to talk about Jean when I’m about to go down on you?” I _finally_ surrender, lifting my head up from between Mikasa’s legs before rolling over on my side. “No offence, but it’s kind of a boner killer.” 

“Right… sorry” Mikasa apologises, pulling up her tights and fixing her skirt but making no shift from her position nestled between the pillows of my bed “it’s not like me to worry about Jean of all people, but he never takes medication because he doesn’t want to pay for prescriptions, so I can’t imagine him going to see a psychiatrist any time soon.”

“Woah! I don’t think the guy needs a psychiatrist; he just likes keeping things clean. Since when did you become Jean’s personal medical expert? You didn’t even get this high-strung when I got laryngitis.” I grumble out, biting at my thumbnail and stretching over her to reach for my phone on top the bedside draw.

“That’s because Erwin could buy you a whole pharmacy if he had to, Jean has to buy the off-brand indigestion tablets.”

“Mmm yeah Jean Jean Jean…” I unconsciously murmur, scrolling down my Twitter feed. Fuck, I love the guy like a brother but if I hear his name again I think I’m going to explode. Why am I getting so worked up about this? Is it because it’s Mikasa talking about him?

“Wow okay, whatever.” She snorts sarcastically, swinging her legs off the bed and over to the mirror on my wardrobe where she starts to form a small braid within her hair.

Surely I’m not still pissed about the whole Lenox Hill pda thing they had going on… I mean, I didn’t have a problem with Jean earlier today. He doesn’t really talk about Mikasa when she’s not around. But Mikasa, well, she hasn’t shut up about him since the beginning of term!

_‘Do you think Jean’s been eating okay?’_

_‘Me and Jean started watching this really cool show the other day-‘_

_‘Jean really suits that new jacket he bought-‘_

 

I get it, his dad got deployed. We’re all worried about him, including me. But I don’t understand why that has to become an excuse for my girlfriend to bring up my best friend at any given possibility. I thought I could handle it; I thought it would die down but come on, in the bedroom! _Really_?

The two of them have pretty much been attached by the hip since I got back from Botswana… and I really wanna know why.

“Okay Eren, you can’t be like that with me and then not say anything.” Mikasa speaks up, stepping over from the mirror and looking down to me on the bed. “What’s gotten into you?”

Sighing once, I rub my face with my hands before flaying them out to her in defense.

“I just don’t see why you keep bringing up Jean all the time that’s all!” I bark, my eyes slightly widened and my jaw tensed to the point of breaking.

“ _What?_ ” She replies in a frankly offended manor and I can’t help but snort at her new-found act of innocence “Since when do I _always_ talk about him?” Words refuse me and instead I resort to shaking my hands wildly as to mean the entire conversation not a few moments earlier.  “Oh come on Eren, one time!”

“Oh please, you two have been practically inseparable since I got back!”

“We’re friends Eren of course we’re going to hang out!” Her voice becomes higher and more agitated, matching my own, and part of my wonders whether Levi can hear our argument from the kitchen downstairs. “And we’re not ‘inseparable’- I only talk to Jean as much as I do everyone else!”

“Well it doesn’t feel like it, fuck, you’re practically swooning over him these days! It’s embarrassing!” For a moment her face contorts with annoyance and her eyebrows screw together, to which an instant pang of guilt rushes over me and creates goosebumps down my arms. We never argue, not like this anyway. The last thing I ever want to do is make her upset.

We’re not just boyfriend and girlfriend; we’re partners- we’re… we’re supposed to constantly be in tune with one another, on _and_ off the dance floor. We should be inseparable like Connie and Sasha are, so why is she acting like that with goddamn Jean!

Mikasa studies my heated face for a while before her own falls into somewhat of a more calm and collected demeanor.

 “You know what? You need to calm down.” She practically whispers before turning to grab her bag and putting on her leather jacket and red tartan scarf.

“What?” Mikasa opens up the bedroom door and steps out onto the landing “Hey, where are you going?” I yell after her as she begins making her way down the winder staircase, her feet hitting each step heavily.

“Leaving.” She carries on, wriggling her feet into her boots once she’s reached the bottom of the stairs before opening up the front door, all the commotion promptly causing Levi lean out of the kitchen inquisitively. “I think it’s best if I go home tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll have calmed down from your little temper tantrum by then.” Mikasa finishes before stepping out the door and closing it behind before I can even make a reach for her.

“Hey! Woah woah what’s going on?” Levi rushes out the kitchen and grabs hold of my arm which I easily shake off as I slip on a pair of sneakers and grab my car keys off the hook by the door. “Are you guys fighting? Eren, where are you going?”

“For a drive!” I bark and open the door which Levi stops me from slamming with his hand. I can already see Mikasa reversing out the drive. What am I even doing? Should I follower her? No, fuck I can’t deal with this right now! Still, I need a breather.

“What about dinner?”

“I won’t be gone that long.” I finish before yanking the door even harder and letting it close loudly behind me.

 

 

**Marco**

 

 

I can’t even remember my parents. The pictures on the fireplace at home are the only images I have of them. Even then, they don’t seem real. Like looking at a painting of some old historical figure, they are there but seem little more than imaginary because nothing in my mind can fathom a moment shared between us, a binding event in my life that could give me any form of indication that they were ever real to begin with. I was a baby when they died, the newspapers apparently called me ‘the miracle child’ for having survived the car crash.

But I guess that means I’ve already used my one drop of good luck, because nothing good seems to have come ever since. Ha, if I could call that ‘good’ to begin with.

That’s a lie, I shouldn’t be so cynical about everything, I’m alive and I have a roof over my head and food on the table. My grandfather is probably the one who helps me to remember that, yeah, at least we had each other.

He was always so good to me, I could never ask for anything in return. He’d try spoil me rotten with whatever money he had left but I could never let him. I think as I grew older I began to understand that we didn’t actually have any money left over anyway. He’d just lie to try make me feel batter, to let me feel like a normal kid and not a boy who had to start working when he was ten just to keep his grandfather’s pizza shop on its feet in a town filled with upper-middle class businessmen and doctors and lawyers and people who got what they wanted because they were the ones who got lucky more than once.

 

I couldn’t afford to go to college, Grandpa had tried to make me go, but I could see the tiredness in his eyes and the aching of his joints and I knew I had to work at the shop full time. I knew he just wanted the best for me but the best just isn’t always ideal.

 

It was around May last year when Grandpa tried one last time to get me what he knew I’d always wanted. We could never afford the hefty entrance fees to get me into M.R.S. Academy, but that wasn’t going to stop me from getting a scholarship. No, _that_ wasn’t- but Mr. Levi was.

Grandfather had pressured me to go to the open auditions because they were free and in his eyes ‘the restaurant could manage with me having one class a morning’. It was my one shot I wasn’t going to mess it up… I couldn’t… I didn’t. That you would probably think I’m lying about because I’m still sweeping floors at six in the morning and am no closer to a Broadway stage then I was before. But I knew, I knew I hadn’t messed up my performance, hell, I knew Defying Gravity like it was the back of my hand, there was no way on earth I screwed it up, even the high F! But yet, I guess my best just wasn’t good enough. I’m just not made to get lucky like that.

Singing had been somewhat of a comfort to me growing up. Like this protective security blanket I had to wrap around me, to shield me from everyone else my age. Everyone around me who had a ‘normal’ upbringing, all my class mates who didn’t have to get their neighbor's hand-me-down clothes and were able to go on class trips and after-school clubs because they didn’t have to work and worry that a little indulgence was going to break the month’s funds. Singing was free. No one could take my voice away from me; it was my own personal weapon, cocooning me away from having to face the reality that I would never be seen as an equal in the eyes of my peers. I’d often wondered if I could make money from singing, even in the streets, but there was never the time. If I wasn’t at school I was working and there was practically no in-between. And so my dreams of performing had lain dormant within the confines of my home, only my grandfather and I knew of my urge to entertain, to make people smile the way it had made me smile when I was struggling, and that’s how it had remained for the past eighteen years.

Not even Eren, whom I could easily account for as one of my closest friends, knew of my hidden talent. I’d always been a little jealous of Eren, I couldn’t help it. We were the same, him and I- and although never in a million years would I dream of exchanging the love of my Grandfather for a rich, even more comfortable lifestyle- I couldn’t help but imagine us as The Prince and The Pauper whenever we were in a room together. Eren was wild and sometimes daring, but a good friend all the same. He’d always ask to help me out which I would always refuse because to hell if I would become anyone else burden. If I ever told Eren I wanted to sing at M.R.S then he’d never rest until it happened. Besides, I couldn’t form that rift between him and Levi, the last thing I wanted to be was some kind of home-wrecker to fuel my own selfish agenda.

 I know Levi isn’t a bad person, I mean sure, I’ve struggled to be in the same room as the man since my audition, but I’d never wish anything bad to come between him and the boy who is essentially his Godson. All the same it bugged me, not that I could tell Eren. He’d never noticed it but it would appear Levi held a large disliking for me even before the May audition. It was only afterwards that I truly realised it. Before then he had just seemed to be this strange and tactile creature in my mind, one worth avoiding and not my business to understand. But no, Mr. Levi didn’t like me and I had no idea why.

Perhaps… I am bitter. Sour in my mind because Levi had refused me of my dream all while nagging his own ‘kid’ to take on the role of a performer himself. I’d have to take that negativity with a grain of salt because the real truth was far simpler then that- I wasn’t good enough for Levi’s class and I’d have to be content with that. It is helpless, I have to be the bigger person; I can’t complain that life isn’t fair; I just have to get on with it. I must still be here for a reason after all; I just have to wait a little longer.

 

 

“Marco, hey Marco!” A familiar voice calls out, shortly followed by the fast and hard honking of a car horn. I twist my head to the roadside and spot Eren in his varnished red Mini pull up to the curb beside me. “Marco it’s a fucking thunderstorm outside what are you doing?” He leans out the window, his voice almost lost among the heavy downfall of rain cascading around my ears.

It had started raining almost as soon as I’d left the restaurant, and it just so happened I’d managed to forget my umbrella back at my house this morning, which unfortunately for me, sat more than a mere few blocks away. My hair was dripping and my body was cold, the uncomfortable cling of my black polyester work shirt clinging to my arms and back. In fact, it had gotten that bad I could just about feel the deepening pools of water under my feet seep through my worn-out shoes, dampening my toes.

“Um, it’s Grandpa’s bingo night… so I locked up shop early.” I blink a few times awkwardly in order to get a better view of the almost distorted Eren in front of me; the rain drops having falling off my hair and threatening my eyelids. “I was just on my way home.”

“Shit Marco, you’ll die of death out here” Eren sighs, leaning over from his seat to open up the passenger door “get in.” Easily I oblige, dipping my head in embarrassment yet not wishing to spend another unnecessary moment away from the comfort of dry heat. Once I’m into the car, practically soaking the passenger seat, Eren turns up the heating considerably and continues his way down the street.

“Thank you Eren, you’re a life saver.”

“No biggy, you looked like a drowning rat out there by yourself. Say, have you eaten yet?” Eren snorts before purposefully taking the opposite turning at the end of the street, away from my house and more towards his own.

“Yes I have.”

“No you haven’t, don’t lie. I know you.” He replies flatly. Crap, no getting out of it I guess. I suppose I would have just gotten a sandwich or something at home, if we have bread in that is… but it would still be better then eating with Levi, I'm too embarrassed to even think of making eye-contact with the man.

Wait, what if he told Eren I auditioned. Would he? Is that why Eren’s treating me like this, picking me up, feeding me? Is this some sort of pity party?

“Dude clam down I said it’s no problem! Besides… there will be loads left over anyway since, well… whatever.” I’ve learned from experience that the best way to deal with Eren if he’s having a bad day is to talk out the situation calmly with him so soon as possible, before it has time to fester and grow. Sure, he had a reputation be a little hot-headed but given the right situation Eren was able to listen to the voice of reason as much as the next person. Breathing out heavily through my nose, I let my head fall back lazily against the seat, craning my neck to get a full view of Eren’s hard and concentrating face glaring intensely at the road. Through the surrounding illuminations of streetlamps and passing cars I can just about make out the redness in his cheeks and under his eyelids- he’s been crying.

“You thinking about your Mom?” I ask slowly to which he shakes his head quickly from side to side yet rubs his nose and eyes with the back of his hand with a short sniffle before returning it to the wheel.

“Nah, just… I had a bit of a fight with Mikasa that’s all” those two never argue, this is new territory entirely- “its fine we don’t need to talk about it.” He quickly brushes of as he pulls into his driveway and gets out of the car before I even have chance to question him. I guess this is not a usual situation after all.

 

“Oh marvellous, you’re finally back,” I hear Levi’s usual taunting and stern voice as I step through the door following Eren “your dinner’s on a plate in the oven, I’d already portioned up Mikasa’s but I guess you can just freeze it-“ He stops talking instantly when he notices me, my damp clothes dripping water all over the sleek laminate floor of the hallway and frankly I feel like diving back out into that hellish thunderstorm head first. It seems far more inviting than spending a mere minute more with this man who obviously hates my guts for no reason I can easily fathom.

“Its fine Marco can eat it.” Eren grunts, obviously unaware of the painstakingly awkward rising tensions between his guardian and I, and makes his way past Levi and into the kitchen to which I can do nothing but hastily kick off my drenched shoes and dart in Eren’s general direction, my eyes actively dodging Levi’s cold and practically indescribable glare so forcefully that he can’t _not_ know how hard I was trying to avoid him.

Almost out of no where, before I myself can even comprehend my own actions, a quick lapse of bravery jerks me just once, and I swiftly turn round to face back down the corridor, not that I’m sure why.

“Sir-“

Wait what am I doing? Am I trying to challenge Levi, make him answer me properly this time? Have him tell me why I’m not good enough and what I can do to improve, because I’ll be damned if I’m letting this slide.

The short man stops cold in the hallway, his hand gracing the brass knob of the door into family room, and the air is so thick between us- yet at this point its like I’m cutting at the unmoving tensions with a pair of old kiddie scissors much less then a knife. Levi turns his head only slightly, I know he can see me out of the corner of his eye, even if his face remains masked by the falling locks of his raven hair. Still, the knowledge alone that I’m under his unnerving gaze is enough to make my fingers curl and me dry swallow once before closing my mouth tight to try defuse the whole situation as if I hadn’t already landed myself in this pool of shit head-first.

Crap, I don’t even know if it’s dizziness from the rush of temperatures, or the fact I’ve barely eaten more than a bowl of Cream of Wheat all day that made me act so bold in the first place. It’s as if… as if I don’t care what I said before…

Yeah, you know what? I don’t!

I’m done with waiting, I want to perform. I _need_ to! I can’t settle for some mediocre life I just can’t, otherwise what’s the point? What have I been doing this whole time if nothing is ever going to get better than this?

Glancing down to his free hand, I notice Levi’s fist curled so tight it looks like it could pop, was I really that bad? What in God’s name did I do to make him dislike me this much?

Upon noticing my shift in gaze, Levi quickly snaps his hand back up and retreats it to his chest, darting his head away and back towards the door handle.

With that one move my luck appears to allude me once again, and before I even have chance to open up my mouth again, Levi turns his whole body away and steps quickly back into the comfort of the family room, shutting the door behind him.

The slamming sound is final and absolute, and once again the all-to-similar feeling of helplessness overcomes me. I was too young to prevent my parents deaths, too poor to make a better life for myself and my Grandfather, to proud to accept any help from one of my only friends, and too weak to achieve the one hopeful dream I have left inside of me.

 Shutting that door on me isn’t just physical; Levi is shutting out my one chance of happiness before it’s even allowed to make its way out of the thunderstorm and into the sun.


	11. Act 1: Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like nothing I say will be appropriate in the context of this chapter except through a ' :) '
> 
> But I hope you enjoy!! <3
> 
> Music reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuR2sgoK7-A

**Jean**

 

 It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen Eren. Connie said he’s hardly been around Maria campus, and when I called to check up on him, he said he was dead in bed with the flu and left it at that. The whole manner of the convocation had been pretty bizarre, because normally if the guy was ill he’d want us all over, wrapped in 500 hundred blankets between us, watching shitty B-movies and eating our entire body mass in Reese’s Pieces. In fact, the whole ambiance between the lot of us has seemed pretty out of balance for a few weeks now. Connie seems to have been forgetting promises he’s made to Sasha more than usual, Mikasa has been claiming she’s been helping Annie with a ‘special project’ the past few days and has frivolously made that her excuse not to make plans, and Reiner has been hanging with Bertolt so much these days in what I can only refer to as the ‘seeing each other’ stage of a relationship which means I’m practically yelling at that blond dope to finally ask Bertolt to be exclusive. I’m pretty envious of the two of them really, how free they both are about their sexuality, perhaps if I’d have been straight forward with everyone from the start, then I wouldn’t want to collapse with fear of being discovered every time Armin does the little thing where he’s laughing and he dips his head into my chest.

In truth I’ve been pretty preoccupied myself anyway. Ian called a few days after the art gallery gig, the associate of his had apparently been pretty impressed with me too, wanted me to send them another couple of videos from in the studio on campus which I’ve been more than happy to fulfill for them. My tutors Mike and Nanaba have been praising me the whole time, and the rest of class have been nothing but supportive since the news circulated, which is pretty surprising given the level of competition within the college. Still, I can’t help but feel nervous the more people find out, I’m still yet to tell any of the guys the news and I know the more I wait, the worse their reactions could potentially be; yet I’d hate for it to look like I’m expelling my bragging rights about a record deal I might not even get when all is said and done. Mikasa and Armin have promised to keep my secret for now, but how long is that going to keep up? I just need a little longer to be sure, Ian said he’d be back by the end of October, and then I would know if I was going to their studio in California. I just had to wait a little bit more…

I suppose Armin’s company has accounted for a good distraction though. Everyone else was running around with their own projects, plans and relationship panics, while I was sitting with my thumb lodged deep up my ass, waiting for news from Shinganshina Entertainment- yet at least I’ve had Armin to keep me somewhat sane and I’d like to think he appreciated the companionship just as much as I did. As a matter of fact, this whole new timetable has kept me from suffering the hell on Earth that is babysitting Sunny and Martin when Connie has a ‘last minute emergency that _has_ to be dealt with immediately’. More like a Dunkin’ Doughnuts run when Sunny gets out the make-up to play beauty parlor… it’s not that I hated kids; I just disliked immensely the thought of having paint and play-dough all up my face and smeared into my clothes. Not that I told Ian that, in fact when he felt the need to send me a picture of his son Ryan who just got onto his middle-school soccer team, well then you could have called me Robin Williams and slapped me into Mrs. Doubtfire if it meant I would get the gig.

Eren has continued his unstoppable pathological nature of being a complete jerk to his old friend; he’s not once tried to contact Armin since the gig. This in itself remained a static void within my mind’s sense of reason; Eren had genuinely seemed interested it catching up with Armin when he first laid eyes on the guy. It was like at a moments notice he dropped any and all interest in a friendly catch-up session for no obvious reason at all- he was very temperamental in nature these days as it was. I wouldn’t admit I was subtly happy about this however, because it meant I got to spend more time alone with whom I could conclude was the cutest, yet oddly dark-humored person I’d ever met.  Armin had this addicting energy about him, he felt dangerous and rebellious like one of those teen antiheroes in a low-budget indie movie, even though his appearance was that of the complete opposite. In some ways he too is like a savory muffin I guess. His voice is so recognizable by now that I’m beginning to get worried about how much I miss when I can’t hear it. I’ve contemplated calling him on a few of these occasions, but that seems far too obvious and hazard-educing given I am still standing on marginally fractured ice from essentially have been creeping outside his shower the first time we met.

I’d discovered quickly that Armin was insanely clever too, he probably could have gotten into some high-end University in the UK if that’s what he’d wanted, but apparently fine arts was were his true passion lay. He sometimes Snapchats me pictures of his latest creations, many of which I soon discovered to be somewhat related to the ocean. Armin told me about how he used to go on holiday to Brighton when he lived in England; the coastline was always his favourite place and often the source of his artistic inspiration. That in itself was quite admirable, after my interview with Ian at the beginning of term, it really had shown me that I seem to be lacking any form of artistic muse, and although that seemed noble in its own right to Ian, it still feels like I’m lacking that sense of pleasure towards anything in particular. I mean sure I love music, more than anything, but aside from that one thing I’m actually good at, every other hobby of mine falls mediocre in comparison, like some half-assed Pinterest board.

 

“So, tell me about this Rutherfordium business.”

It was early afternoon, Armin had to grab some new brushes before his class the next day and I’d tagged along for the sake of getting to see him smiling among all the paints and equipment like a kid in a sweet shop who’d just got his pocket money. I leaned over the small rack of brushes, looking down to Armin’s crouching figure on the other side, currently observing two seemingly identical fan brushes, in fact if he had them any closer to his face he’d probably poke himself in the eye.

“Well it’s the 140th Element in the Periodic Table like I told you before,” He starts, putting the two brushes back and standing, making is way over beside me where some other brushes were stacked, “it was named after the scientist Ernest Rutherford who won a Nobel Prize for his work on nuclear physics.”

“Boom.” I chuckle, picking up a brush for myself and turning it around in my fingers trying to find the same satisfaction Armin was by looking at what is essentially a stick of wood with bristles pointing out the end of it.

“Rutherfordium is a bit special mind you-“ He continues, taking the brush back from me, smirking, and putting it back where it belongs before having me follow him across to the next isle “we don’t know its melting point or its boiling point and it has no known color, density, or crystal structure.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

“I’m saying it’s unique. It’s mysterious… kind of like you.” My heart seems to do the stupid flip-flop thing at that, luckily for me Armin’s already turned around and made is way to the cashier before he can see the pink rising from my neck.

“Hey I’m not mysterious!” I follow after him.

“Oh yes you are,” Armin chuckles, placing some brushes on the counter and rummaging his pocket for change for the cashier “I know you own every Foo Fighters album on vinyl even though you don’t have a record player _and_ you ask for an extra shot in your Vanilla lattes because you never think they’re strong enough. Even so, I’m yet to find out anything trivial like the names of your parents.”

Okay perhaps there was some truth to his words, I had failed to talk about my family life or more so the fact my dad was currently in Afghanistan, but it wasn’t like it was a secret or anything I just… didn’t think we were close enough to unload our problems on each other yet. That in itself was probably a ridiculous conclusion given I saw the guys dick within milliseconds of knowing him. I’d find a time, soon… like everything else in my growing pile of lies and deceit.

“Catherine and Archie.” I smirk, following Armin out the automatic doors.

“Marie and Robert.” He retaliates before casting his eyes down at my pants when the sound of my phone buzzing from inside my back pocket calls out.

<EVERYONE, MARIA CAMPUS, DANCE STUDIO 3, PRONTO (that means NOW)>

“Wha-“ My face twists in confusion upon reading the chain message.

“Is it Eren?” Armin questions as I twist the phone for him to read.

“No it’s Sasha, I guess it’s urgent… whatever it is.” Why on earth would she want us to meet in one of the dance studios? “You wanna come too?”

“Are you sure that’ll be okay? It seems pretty serious-“

“It’s Sasha, how serious can it be?  Besides, I said you should get to know the others a little better.”

 

*

 

It takes us about twenty minutes to get back to M.R.S, and by the time we arrive in the designated dance studio it looks like we are the last ones to get there. All the lights are turned off except one by the door, and the mirrors all covered over with black cloths, a cluster of chairs forms half way into the room, facing the back wall. Upon further inspection I notice a lack of femininity among the present audience; Connie, Reiner, Bertolt, and Eren all occupy the front row, talking quietly among themselves and constantly checking their phones for messages as to the whereabouts of the girls.

“Yo guys, what the hell is all this?” I question, shuffling along the second row of chairs and sitting a fraction behind Eren, so I can see a little of his… oddly focused face “You doing okay buddy, how’s the flu?”

“The what?” Eren sparks casually, and through the lack of enthusiasm in is voice I can easily tell he’s not really paying me much attention, however, nor does he exactly sound like he’s had much of a stuffy nose in the first place. “Oh, hey Armin.” He adds, spying a glance back at the blond sitting next to me.

“Hey.” Armin replies easily, before looking back to me in confusion, as if to say ‘ _what’s gotten into him?_ ’ the exact question I too would prefer answered.

“Erica perk up, what ya do, get hit by a bus?” I press; tapping his arm, however, soon enough my attention is drawn elsewhere.

To the right of me, three older guys, I’ve seen them a few times before. I think I remember their names, Mr. Smith and Professor Levi talk about them enough at Eren’s house: Eld Jinn, Gunther Schultz, and Auruo Bossard, they were all post-graduates, orchestral musicians, brilliant in their own right, probably among the most talented players on campus. Eren had told me once they had been taking some higher-education course alongside working as part of M.R.S’s orchestra group; they often partnered the theatre department for shows and were good friends of Professor Levi. 

“Dude you’re really in the dog house this time!” Gunther laughs, shaking Auruo’s shoulders, the other man is grinning but I can tell it’s false just by looking at him.

“Damn right you should be worried, remember what happened last time?”

“You guy’s have no idea what you’re talking about, Petra _loves me_ , everything is fine.” Auruo states proudly, although I can see by the way he rubs his hands together nervously, that the reassurance is more for his sake then anybody else’s.

“Um excuse me,” I interrupt, tapping Eld lightly on the shoulder “do you know what’s going on here?”

“Is this your first time? Unlucky! Which one’s your little lady?” Eld replies, turning to face me along with his two companions.

“Oh no no, none of them, they’re my friends.”

“Well then buddy, you’d best consider yourself one of the lucky ones!”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I turn my head back and catch Reiner glancing back at me from the front row.

“What’s going on?” He mouths, to which I flay my palms out and shrug my shoulders. Interrupting the two of us however, is the sound of Annie, swinging the door open before walking painfully slowly from behind us, all the way towards the back wall facing us. She’s dressed black head-to-toe, stilettos, a pencil skirt with a silk strap top tucked in, her hair is tied up into a bun so tightly it looks almost painful, and standing out between her pale face and smoky eyes, is a set of bright red, matt painted lips, pursed and waiting for attention.

“And now,” she begins, her voice loud and affirming, yet sinisterly calm, the sudden interruption making every eye in the room snap up to meet hers “the three merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail, in their rendition of… _'The Cell Block Tango'_ ”.

You have got to be joking.

“ _Pop!_ ” A female voice yells from behind us. I dart my head backwards towards the door and spot a ginger lady, whom upon closer inspection I know to be Petra Ral, another of the post-grads, dragging smoothly, a dark wooden chair across the dance studio floor, down towards the wall in which Annie previously stood, who now seems to have retreated to the side, smirking excitedly having pushed play on the boom-box where she stands, the sensual serenade of instruments from the track ringing through my ears.

“ _Six!_ ” Sasha’s voice soon follows after, similarly dragging an identical chair in the same fashion. Connie’s mouth drops open almost instantly, not that I’m quite sure whether or not the boy knows exactly where this song is heading, but it is safe to say I have seen Chicago a multitude of times and can guess exactly where this is going to go…

“ _Squish!_ ” Mikasa’s voice is the last to be heard, following closely behind Sasha, and not once do her eyes fall upon any of the marginal spectators, including Eren. The guy’s face is practically unreadable, he definitely knows this song he lives with Levi for crying out loud, although he displays no ounce of worry and instead his eyes lock terrifyingly unemotionally onto his girlfriend as she makes her way towards the front of us.

Once all three girls are lined up in a row I can see clearly they’re all clad in similar get-ups to Annie, the only difference being instead of a skirt they sport a pair of black dance leggings and loose flowing hair. Each of them crashes their heels down onto the seat of the chair in practically military precision and I can almost feel the testosterone among us being crushed by their presence.

“ _Uh uh!_ ” Sasha virtually _moans_ for god sake, causing me instantly to retract my hand to my mouth and dart my eyes to Armin who glances back at me with similar uncertainty.

What the fuck is going on?

“ _Cicero!_ ”

“ _Lipschitz!_ ”

And with that they repeat themselves a few times, lap dancing around their chairs once or twice and by god I’m really starting to worry about the number of uncomfortable encounters I’ve been having since the beginning of term because frankly I’m starting to loose count…

It’s not that I have a problem with female sexuality or with girls displaying themselves in provocative ways, being proud of their bodies, god no it’s just… these are my best friends _and_ my band mates girlfriends. I feel like I’m watching porn with the guys and even worse, right next to Armin, damn he’s never going to want to speak to me again after this! He’ll think me and my friends are all part of some sort of kinky-as-fuck orgy club!

This is actually horrific oh my god, what do I do? Should I look? Why am I even here? _What did I do_?

Is this even a punishment? I mean, if these guys have had some sort of domestic in their own time then that’s up to them, I don’t see why I, and Bertolt and Reiner for that matter, are here. Is this… a straight thing that I don’t understand? Shit Jean you really are doing a lousy job of faking your sexuality, I mean, I suppose my Pet Shop Boys albums don’t exactly help either…

“ _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame!_ ” The three of them fall down on the chair, their legs slightly parted before smacking each heel down against the laminate floor  
“ _If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it-_ “  
  
“ _I betcha you would have done the same!_ ” And Sasha and Mikasa snap their legs closed and cross one over the other, instantly becoming inanimate and motionless.

Petra stands from her seat to the left and walks slowly forwards, hands on her hips and her head tilted slightly upwards, as if she’s glaring down at all of us beneath her… and it’s kind of terrifying.

“You know how people have these little habits that get you down?” She murmurs, her voice is quiet but clear all the same, not like any of us would dare speak up over her in this situation anyway. And then she continues, I’ve heard the song and seen the film adaptation enough times to get the jist of her story. Bernie liked to ‘pop’ gum. Bernie’s other half found it fucking annoying. Then Bernie’s wife- “took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots… _into his head_.” She stole the words right out of my mouth.

It’s not like I know these post-grads well enough to even contemplate their relationship status’, never mind what was said or done to warrant Petra Ral pointing a finger gun in Auruo’s direction before making a satisfyingly sinister ‘pop’ sound. I’d probably never know for sure if Auruo did have a nasty habit of clacking bubble gum between his teeth- he seems like the sort of person who would- but like I’m one to judge.

I did however know Sasha and Connie. They are two of my closest friends, so when I hear Sasha begin to take on the second verse for herself, I know it to plainly obvious that the cheating Mormon boyfriend ‘Ezekial Young’ was 100% and without-a-doubt fictitious in nature before Sasha even finishes her first line.

“So that night, when he came home from work… I fixed him his drink as usual.” Having taken over Petra’s standing position, Sasha finishes walking up and down their make-shift stage and brings a finger close to her lips in anticipation before her mouth curls up into a wicked grin, “You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic!”

My head instantly snaps towards Connie in the row ahead, he looks scared shitless the poor guy. I can’t help but laugh a bit at his situation, I know I’d said things were a little rocky with his attention span but Sasha would never confront him in some elaborate performance like this. This here was obviously a gimmick. Frankly a hilarious one given how the dude’s face has changed from a proud smirk by getting what was essentially a lap-dance from his gorgeous girlfriend, to now of shear terror from sarcastic threats of having lethal metalloids dropped into his drinks- wow, I guess I was earning some chemistry knowledge from Armin.

“ _He took a flower in its prime! Then he used it and he abused it! It was a murder but not a crime!_ ” Well I guess if this is all a little joke then I can relax a little and enjoy it, the girls obviously put some time and effort into it. And despite none of the three of them actually taking a vocal course at M.R.S, there singing ability was on point. Still, this seems like an awful lot of trouble just for a glorified karaoke session, don’t they have work they could be doing?

Unless-

Unless this isn’t a joke, fuck!

Eren hasn’t moved this whole time… his face, his face it’s still all contorted and _mad_? Oh god, Mikasa? What-

“Now, I'm standing in the kitchen, carvin' up the chicken for dinner, mindin' my own business- “ The girl starts and by god the atmosphere changes in a heartbeat. This isn’t Mikasa’s kind of game, she’s never been one to joke overtly like this, her humor, well it’s more dark and snarky. She’ll make small witty side comments and occasionally send over the odd funny Youtube video… but she wouldn’t put on a performance like this just to earn a few laughs out of everybody. “And in storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage-“

Oh no.

“ _’You been doin' the milkman!’_ “

“Oh fuck-“ I let slip, uncontrollably shifting in my chair, the slight scraping sound making Armin’s head snap away and towards me.

“What’s wrong?”

“He was crazy and he kept on screamin' _‘You been doin' the milkman!’_ ” She yells again, her hands firmly grasping at her hips and her stance firm. She’s not even singing at this point more-or-less yelling at us…at Eren.

“I’m the milkman!” I flap, my head darting between Mikasa and back to Armin, trying to clamber up but he holds me down, his face urgent but subtle, trying not to draw the attention of the others.

“The what?”

“The milkman!”

“And then he ran into my knife… he ran into my knife _ten times_!” The air turns practically arctic and part of my wonders if the instrumental track is still playing through the boombox because all I can hear is piercing ringing in my ears as if a truckload of cymbals had been just thrown down a flight of stairs.

Mikasa’s eyes divert to her boyfriend in particular, the ten fingers she currently holds up curling down slowly one at time before she clicks her fingers and Petra and Sasha follow to stand beside her.

My frantic eyes dare to dart towards Eren and instantly I wish I hadn’t. He’s not looking back at me which gives my heart a minute ounce of relief but the anger scratched deeply into the creases between each of his terribly displeased brows are just as nauseating.

Only when my eyes leave Eren, does my dumbfounded-ness become excelled to yet a further degree. How, how have none of the others noticed what’s happening? Or if they have they are remaining surprisingly clam… perhaps because they don’t understand what’s going on. No, they probably think this is all still a joke.

Armin was right.

What he’d said the other week, about Eren and Mikasa and me. He saw it, saw what I couldn’t… until now. Eren thinks, oh god he thinks Mikasa’s cheating on him… with me!

Fuck! I’m such an idiot how did I not notice from the start? Back at the airport, Madison Square Garden, Billy Joel, the posh couple, our inside joke. It all makes sense now, or at least that how it must feel for Eren. An then again, at the art gallery, Mikasa, her head was on my shoulder and Eren got pissed… even then he thought something was going on between us and I was too blind to see his fears that I never even thought to diffuse them!

“ _They had it comin'-”_

But, how could he? Does he really think that lowly of me, of Mikasa for crying out loud! How could he think we would ever cheat? Because we’re friends? Well, newsflash Eren, we all are! God that jerk! I’m not going to apologize for this, why should I? This isn’t my business if he can’t trust the girl he’s supposed to be in a relationship with.

 _“They had it comin', all along, all along!_ ”

All this time I’ve been worried about what Eren will think about me… about my dad, about the record deal, about liking dudes! But why should it matter what he thinks? Why should I have to tell that guy anything when he can’t do the same? If he can’t come forward and tell me what bothers him then what’s the point? Sorry buddy but my life is too short to sit and wait for you to get your priorities in check, I’ve got my own shit to deal with!

“ _'Cause if they used us, and they abused us-“_

Fuck it. I’m done.

“ _How could they tell us that we were wrong?_ ”

Yeah, I’m done.

“ _Could you tell us that we were wrong?_ ”

 

Annie clicks the CD off and the three girls catch their breath a little, all before the others begin clapping wildly next to me, shortly followed by Reiner and Connie and a rather confused looking Bertolt.

Petra giggles a little and skips over to her friends, pointing and laughing towards Auruo who looks like some sort of kicked puppy before Petra gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek and a smile graces his lips as he wraps his arms around her waist.

“Did you like it?” Sasha beams excitedly, diving into Connie’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I did but I hope you know I’m not cheating on you?” Connie half-laughs, his eyes slightly widened, perhaps partially worried Sasha had made such an assumption. No, no Connie didn’t have to worry about that. Not like _them_.

“What the fuck was that?” Eren half yells behind me. In the midst of my recollecting thoughts I failed to notice him walk towards the exit, where Mikasa had shortly followed after. “How dare you!”

“ _How dare I_?” Mikasa scoffs, her hands crossed tightly in front of her, a deep glare set into her face.

“Yes how dare you! How dare you bring up our personal lives in front of everyone like that- are you insane?”

“No you’re the one who’s insane, how dare _you_ think I would cheat on you! Don’t go acting all butt-hurt at me when you were the one who made a fool out of me the other night!” She points her finger in his face, that in itself being my key to stand up and make my way over, it doesn’t seem like everyone has noticed what’s happening, too wrapped up in their own convocations, except Annie, Reiner and Bertolt  who all make nervous glances over to the couple before their gazes all fall towards me expectedly. Armin, noticing too, lets me out the isle easily and I jog over to the two of them, darting over to Mikasa’s side and waving my hands at Eren in defence.

“ErenErenEren chill!” I yell frantically, although it does nothing but make the redness in his face darken.

“No you are the one who needs to fucking chill Jean! She is my _girlfriend_! How could you?”

“You have this all wrong Eren!” I defend, grabbing hold of Eren’s arm but he pulls away instantly.

“LIKE HELL I DO!”

“Eren I am not cheating on you with Jean, get that into your head quickly!” Mikasa interjects, shaking her hands in front of the brunettes face.

“Why should I believe you? You made it all up didn’t you, all about that girl you met on the Subway? I see the way you act around her I see it, you like Mikasa!”

“Eren I don’t!”

“Well what have you been doing all this time then?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“See you can’t tell me, it’s true!”

“Dude you’re being ridiculous!”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me you shit-”

 “Shut up both of you!” Mikasa snaps, shoving the both of us apart at the chest and storming past towards the door. “Nothing’s going on between Jean and I, end of story!” She continues, pushing the door open with one hand and snapping her head back to face us both furiously “And if you don’t-“ And her voice cracks, a peculiar and unnatural sound, one I’ve never heard before because who in god’s name would think Mikasa Ackerman of all people, the level-headed performer, the backbone of our entire group, would be capable of breaking composure in such a negative fashion “if you can’t understand that Eren-“

“Mikasa-“

“If you can’t trust me… then I think we need to go on, on a break.” She sighs out in defeat, her head falling slack.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“ _Jesus Eren_ , a break!” She breathes heavily, her head shaking and biting her bottom lip, before she makes her way quickly out the door and letting it slam behind her.

 

I can only recall seeing Mikasa cry once within my time of knowing her. It isn’t that I think she is inept of human emotions like some perceive her to be, in fact she is the exact opposite. Mikasa is a stunningly loving person when you really look; she is thoughtful and always listens to what others have to say. She can remember the little things about a person; she knows what makes people tick. Like those little Japanese food erasers you can buy at the craft store, she will always buy a couple for Sasha if she’s nearby, because she knows Sasha has a thing for colorful candy and for intricate stationary, and putting the two together for her is, like what food and women is to Joey Tribbiani. Mikasa once stayed up helping a whole night- no breaks- at Connie’s place because he was so angry with himself that he’d forgot he had a massive project for the next morning and couldn’t read the ridiculous font his ass-for-a-professor had decided to print in, then the day after she brought him over a banoffee pie and the Back to the Future trilogy to make him feel better after that short moment of self-doubt.

The one time I’d seen Mikasa in tears to count was during summer vacation. She, Annie and I had decided to go to this gig in Bushwick and we’d all had a little to drink. Turns out, despite how careful we’d been, the three of us had failed to notice the dodgy pill some jerk dropped into Mikasa’s cup. Annie and I had never left her side the entire night, so thank the lord she had no opportunity to wound up alone, and by some miracle the pill wasn’t that effective, at least not in making her pass-out or disorientated. It did however make her throw-up profusely, to the point Annie was holding her hair while I patted her back and she spat chunks in the middle of the empty street at four in the morning, all while sobbing that her stomach hurt and she wanted Eren.

It was painful to watch in a guttural way that I could almost imagine how it felt for her. At the time all that ran through my head was how I wanted her to have Eren too, and then it might not hurt as much.

It’s the same way I feel right now.

 

Eren and I stand there for a moment, glancing at the closed door, unable to speak and trembling. I can feel my hands all clammy and I know I need to say something to Eren but nothing seems appropriate. However I phrase myself, whatever I concoct within the ounce of time I can spare within this painfully sharp atmosphere, will note come close enough to fixing the mess that’s just been made.

I can’t believe this is happening.

“Listen Eren-“

“Oh go fuck yourself Jean!” And with that Eren storms through the door too, leaving me alone and wondering whether or not the business I’d just promised to keep myself out of has come to claim me for its own.

 

After a moment of collecting myself, I decide to leave too, or at least leave the room which still feels heated in its atmospheric radiation to an extend I fell like I might suffocate if I stay even a minute longer. Making my way out into the corridor- the opposite way to Eren and Mikasa- over to a cluster of lockers across the hall, I slowly allow my back to fall against the cool metal and, closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose before letting out an exasperated sigh.

God my head hurts. What the fuck am I going to do? Eren has got to come to his senses soon surely? It’s not my fault that bastard is so jealous all the time, who does he think he is blaming me? It’s not like I have a good back-up to defend myself with either. I have been secretive lately, but that’s only because I don’t want the guys to know about the record deal, and if Eren knows I made up all that crap about a girl on the subway, then he’s going to want to know where I’ve been this whole time. I suppose I could tell him I’ve been with Armin, Annie could back that up, but even then that’s just going to bring with it a whole bunch of other questions that’s no business of Eren’s to begin with.

Fuck! Why can’t the guy just learn to trust people? Then I wouldn’t feel so god-damn shitty about keeping things from him, even if it’s none of his concern.

“Hey, you okay?”  I feel a warm hand grab hold of my arm, and turning down I spot Armin smiling sadly up towards me. Even now he seems like a god-damn angel in the midst of this shit-show.

“Yeah I’m fine.” I whisper out, offering the faintest and smile I can muster back towards him.

“Well, your friends are… interesting.” I can’t help but grin a little more at that, Armin may be the one to call me honest but is overtly-blunt sarcastic personality was a force to be reckoned with too.

“Shit, I’m sorry for dragging you into all of this drama. It isn’t normally like this.” I reassure him, which is the truth because it isn’t. In fact I can’t remember a single argument between any of us since the beginning of summer vacation…

“I guessed that much. Listen; try not to worry about it too much. Give them some space, time to come around to each other before they can do the same with you- that goes for all of them.” I guess he’s right- wait-

“All of them?”

“You didn’t hear them? Connie and Sasha just had an argument of their own.”

“Wait, what?” I was so caught up with Eren and Mikasa that I missed those two of all people, getting riled up?

“They weren’t exactly shouting like you guys. I didn’t really understand what happened, but with you guys by the door, Sasha stormed out of the fire exit while you three were in the midst of it.”

“They didn’t-“

“No they didn’t break up. Sasha said something about them still meeting tonight. Hopefully they can sort it out then?”

“Yeah… hopefully.” I guess Sasha finally caved in… if the power-couple is loosing spirit, is love dead after all? Or maybe-

“CanImakethisuptoyou?” I ask too quickly, turning my body to face Armin head-on and shoving my hands into my jean pockets before my brain even had enough time to register whether or not this is a good idea.

“You don’t have anything to make up to me for?” Well except the shower incident, and the Eren incident, and _this_ incident.

“I want to” I press on, stepping a bit closer “let me take you out for dinner tonight?” Oh my god I’m actually doing it-

“You mean like a date?”

“No-” yes “like a friend-date… I mean, if you- if you want to that is!” No I mean like a real date, well done Jean-

“ _A friend-date?_ ”

“Yeah like a pal thing- I mean come on, Rutherfordium eyy, you’re like my science buddy now, like my h2hoe- BRO! I MEAN BRO! Shit, but- you, you get it right? Like in a… in a chemical joke way? Not in a derogatory way, I mean… I’m a good guy- not like a fedora kind of good guy but I mean- I erh- I’m not a shower stalker.”

No I’m not a shower stalker; we can push that thought aside. But a complete and utter moron, yeah I’d say that’s still rather appropriate-

“ _Ahahaha aha_!”

His laughter, Armin’s- it’s loud and giddy and it makes his shoulders shake, its corny but also kind of sweet in a weird way, the sort of laugh a person would hate about themselves because it’s too obnoxious, but instead I find it all the more attractive in a obscure kind of way. It’s very Armin. It’s very ‘savory muffin’.

“ _Aha_ \- okay… friend-date it is.”


	12. Act 1: Connie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was painful to write, Connie has such an interesting mindset to me I always wanted to dig into it in my own way a little!  
> Hope you enjoy, thank you for all the supportive comments <3
> 
> (Things will get better for poor Connie I promise!)

**Connie**

 

_“I hate you Connie Springer!”_

Is what he had told me- ‘hate’. Before then, little 10-year-old Connie didn’t really understand the true extent of that word’s meaning. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what it meant to hate anyone or anything before, more so the fact that any child throwing a temper-tantrum over something as feeble as being forced to eat brussel sprouts with their Christmas dinner constituted declaring the words ‘I hate them’- and so the perplexity of the definitive line in the sand that came along with saying you really, truly ‘hated’ something was pretty new to me.

Charlie ‘ginger-ranger’ Granger was one of my best friends back in the 5th grade. He was the sort of kid who lost both his front teeth at the same time, and would constantly sprain or break a bone but find it hilarious all the same. Charlie was someone who I could engage in the more adventurous explorations of my young life with. We could climb trees and search ponds at the park and cause a general nuisance outside the local arcade all before we had to be back home for dinner. I think part of the reason why we got on so well was because we both held this distinctive urge towards exploration- trying to find the best new dens and adventure spots which seemed few-and-far-between given living among the steel jungle that was high-rise buildings and nauseatingly yellow taxi cabs. 

I’d forgotten Charlie’s 11th Birthday. In my defense a new episode of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends was airing and my mom had decided we were going to get a pizza delivery that night so I had been extremely preoccupied. I knew in the back of my head I’d forgotten about something, that there was something I was missing about that particular day but 10-year-old me never questioned it (most likely believing it was some form of homework piece that would wound up being done 10 minutes before my lesson the day it was due). It was only when I arrived at Elementary School the next morning that I registered the grave error I had made. It was Charlie’s Birthday the night before, I had forgotten. We had planned to go down to ‘the creek’ as we dubbed it, in retrospect it was nothing more than an extension of a commercial fishing pond but it was still special to us. The idea of the evening was to go with the brand-spanking new fishing net Charlie bought with the Birthday money from his grandparents in order to finally capture (only to observe mind you) ‘The Big Mama’ which we had so clever Christened it. The Big Mama was an extremely large American Bull frog, which in hindsight was probably heavily pregnant, but who were we to know- this to us was simply a large and fascinating beast that we- the New York explorer duo- were going to ensnare on that special  11th Birthday evening. _Were_ , as in that never happened. All because I forgot like I forgot everything else marginally important to those around me.

I’d never feared a look as much as I did the look Charlie gave me that next morning. That look of… disappointment, it made me feel so small. The fact that I could upset someone on such a personal level, simply due to my own mental stupidity, it still to this day makes me feel worse than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I’d tried to apologize back then, seriously, _seriously_ apologise. But obviously it had been too late. No way could Charlie catch The Big Mama on his own and just the mere aspect of the fact I’d forgotten one of my best friend’s Birthday over a margarita pizza and a Cartoon Network show was enough to render me a despicable villain for the rest of my Elementary School life and the reasoning behind why I had been ‘hated’ for the first time in my short existence.

 

How peculiar I should think of that now. Perhaps it was something in the lyrics… ‘he had it coming’, I mean I guess I did have that coming to me back then. I’d like to think my memory is not so bad after that incident, I mean sure I have trouble sometimes, but I make sure so set Birthday reminders on my phone for the exact same purpose-

“Did you like it?” Sasha kicks off her heels before she dives into my lap; her breath is quick and sharp, but still bursting with adrenaline.

“I did but I hope you know I’m not cheating on you?”I laugh nervously, because well shit that performance was terrifying. Sexy I mean wow, but… terrifying…

“Yeah I know.” She hums, her nose gracing against my own before I steal a quick kiss and I hug her a little tighter.

“Urgh you’re so cute it’s like a sin.” I mumble into her hair, which still smells strongly of her spiced-apple shampoo and I’m happy for the amenity of it. See, ‘amenity’, I do know posh words if I try. Or at least I do if I listen to Reiner when he’s on the phone to the landlord.

“Says you little mister!”

“I’m surprised you’ve not started heaving at this display of PDA back their Jeany-boy- Jean? Hey where’d he go?” I question glancing around the room before spotting him, Eren and Mikasa all yelling profusely at one another by the doors. “Hey are they fighting?”

“Looks like it,” Reiner observes, before Sasha and I quickly pull apart in an attempt to stand “-I wouldn’t get involved. Best to leave the three of them to figure out whatever is happening for themselves.”

“But Eren and Mikasa never argue- god it looks awful…”

“Yeah shouldn’t we try stop them?”

“Hey, never mind that- how about you two, got any plans for tonight? It’s your big day after all!” Reiner defuses quickly. In retrospect he’s probably right. He’s a clever guy, and it’s not as if I know the goings on of those guys in the way I know Cheetos are a dollar off at The Food Emporium right now. And I’d hate to make matters worse than they already look.

“Well we’re going to Boqueria in Soho, it’s this really nice tapas bar so we can get loads of little dishes and crowd them around the table until we have one massive feast!” Sasha buzzes excitedly. That place did have somewhat of an elegant charm about it, sort of minimalist in its creamy décor, but it makes us feel Benedict Cumberbatch-level fancy because they serve food on those hoity-toity square plates; yet the bill at the end of it leaves me feeling more unapologetic then it does repelled, not so much regressing into a ball until my next pay check rolls in and rather ordering an extra portion of Nutella churros.

“Yup! Gonna stuff our faces with all those sautéed mushrooms until we need rolling home- but what big day exactly? I don’t remember getting married!”

“Huh?” Sasha queries, the grip she has around my shoulders loosening slightly as she pulls away.

“What’s the occasion? I thought it was just date night?” We go out every Thursday, it’s not like it’s a big deal. The movies some nights, dinner out on others- when it gets to November the Union Square holiday market will be up-and-running again, that’s always nice-

“Please, _please_ tell me you’re pulling my leg Con.”

Wait, what?

Sasha’s voice it’s almost desperate, pleading- I, I don’t understand what did I say?

“…What?” I urge, my hand gracing over Sasha’s arm yet she continues to stare back to me in such an unreadable manner, her lips parted and her body tense “What?”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Her voice falls flat into a frightening state of melancholy.

“Forgot- forgot what? I don’t understand…” I snap my head around, from the back of the room, where it looks as if Mikasa’s just stormed out… back to Sasha, to Reiner, to Bertolt- all who seem to look at me with such an intense form of sadness and pity it makes my heart ache somewhat painfully at the perplexity of their expressions.

“Of course you don’t…” Sasha practically whispers, only adding to my burning worry-filled curiosity “Connie it’s our 1-year anniversary today. You know? Like, ‘happy being boyfriend and girlfriend for a whole 365 days’ celebration, kind of a big occasion… I guess not.”

Oh my god.

How, how could I forget this… of all things-

“Sasha I’m so sorry I completely forgot-“

“Yeah but you see Connie that’s your problem. You always forget don’t you?” Her voice raises and Sasha clambers off my lap before I can protest.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what, never mind we don’t need to talk about it now-not here.” She sighs, collecting her heels from the floor and making her way over to the non-occupied fire exit over to the left of us.

“Hey hey where are you going?” I panic, bouncing up from my seat in a hurry to catch up with her.

“I just need… a breather.”

What the hell is a ‘breather’? From me?

“What about tonight?”

“Yes I’ll see you tonight now can I please- justhaveamomenttomyselfConnie!” She pleads, regressing down slightly and turning her body towards the fire exit. With begrudging acceptance, I nod my head once or twice, darting my gaze to the floor and biting at my bottom lip. Sighing once more, Sasha pushes the fire exit door open with her free arm and jogging outside, leaves me stood looking lost like the fool I am.

How? How could I forget this?

I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.

 

*

 

“Sir would you like some grounded pepper? Excuse me- Sir?”

“Connie!”

“Wuh- what?” Sasha’s voice draws me back to reality enough so that I catch a glimpse of the tall and lanky limbed Spanish waiter- who must be at least 30 and looks like he’s not slept for at least two days- hovering an over-compensating pepper grinder above my portion of Dátiles con Beicon in a hesitant but seemingly impatient manor. That in itself was understandable given the fact I was yet to give him a response to the aforementioned pepper grinder and how much of its contents I wished to be showered across my palette like a gust of wedding confetti, wait fuck-

“Oh sorry, no thank you.” I finally offer, to which he smiles simply as he leaves us, although with an incredibly false sense of happiness upon even the most amateur of inspections.

“You’ve got to stop spacing out like that.” Sasha mumbles, clutching hold of her fork tightly before prodding it down thrice into her dish of Albóndigas and spooning it into her mouth.

“Right… sorry.”

“Ugh, stop apologizing.”

 

It was safe to say that things were… awkward between us since this afternoon.

I went to pick up Sasha from her place at 7:15 like we’d originally planned; I’d remembered that much apparently. When I’d arrived, Sasha was still getting ready and so I sat in the lounge with her Grandma Dotty who proceeded to tantalize me in her usual sarcastic tone of voice given the fact I’d failed to bring my girlfriend so much as a bouquet of flowers like old Christopher Hollbrook had ‘back in her day’.

That in retrospect achieved nothing of a humorous exchange and rather pulled me into a much deeper state of self-hatred and seething embarrassment as to my irreversible idiocy then I already had.

We talked a little about Eren and Mikasa. Turns out Sasha had sort of known what was going on between them; or more so that Mikasa had told her that Eren was acting uncomfortably jealous and she wanted him to ‘get the message’ that she wasn’t cheating- with whom I now know to be Jean. I’m not sure how taking a number from a risqué-Broadway musical was the best method in telling your other half that you are not cheating on them, nor did it exactly look like things went according to plan anyway but it’s pretty difficult to understand Mikasa’s mind-set sometimes; she never takes the easy route of anything she does- so I guess I just can’t understand her methods. I want to say that I understand where Eren is coming from. But to be fruitfully honest I’m finding it difficult. I mean yeah, Mikasa and Jean are close- but so are Sasha and Jean and not once in my existence of knowing the two have I expected something unfaithful to be happening between them. Sasha is not like that. Jean is not like that. Eren just has to understand that neither is Mikasa by a long-shot and that all his adolescent anxieties are because he doesn’t like the fact he spends every summer vacation away from his girlfriend in which time he has next-to-no idea what is going on in her life.

The guy has trust issues, even I can see that.

Perhaps that knowledge was even sadder in this scenario. That I am able to deduce more from Eren and Mikasa’s fractured relationship then I can from my own girlfriend, who sits currently opposite to me, sipping at the glass of iced water beside her with a face so still and lacking its usual warm glow that it looks almost like a Margaret Keane painting.

 

“Do you hate me?” I finally let slip.

“No Connie I don’t hate you, I don’t think I could ever hate you.” Sasha eyes me through her glass before setting the water down and pushing her knife and fork together inside her bowl, looking up to me.

“Then why do you want me to stop apologising? How am I supposed to make it up to you if you won’t let me apologise.”

She’s gotta know, has to understand how sorry I am. I won’t let it happen again I swear on my life! She has to understand it was just one slip-up!

“Because I don’t want you to- fuck, I don’t know-“ Her voice sharpens slightly, into more of a fierce whisper in an attempt for me to lower my own given the close proximity of the other guests at tables surrounding our own. “I know it’s not your fault Connie-“

“Then why are you still mad at me?”

“ _Shh_! I’m not mad I’m just-“

“Disappointed?”

“Frustrated.”

I hate the thought of making her so unhappy. The internal pain it brings is less of a sharp pain like the one that accompanies stubbing ones toe against a dresser, and more like the after-math of falling down the stairs and twisting your ankle in multiple directions.

“… You know I’m trying though don’t you?” Because I am, I really am it’s just-hard.

“But are you Connie?” She snaps, giving in on her hushed tone, her voice rising to a degree that the woman on the table opposite makes a quick glance in our direction.

“Yes I am! You know I am!”

“Well it just feels like I spend all my time with you having to remind you of dates and times and things I’ve already said to you- it’s tiring Connie!”

So I’m ‘tiring’? I don’t understand- does, does that mean that I’m so hard to be around that it makes my own girlfriend unhappy? What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m such a god-damn idiot! _Urgh_ why can’t I understand anything!

I’ve always been a pretty emotional person. Despite societies impression that a guy shouldn’t really cry, I’m the sort of person who tends to do it on a multitude of occasions, so it doesn’t really come as much of a surprise to myself when I can feel water welling up between my tear ducts at the thought of my own stupidity.

“Nonono, No you- you said that you know I’m not dumb! You told me the other week- you said t-that I wasn’t an idiot… that I do remember stuff, I do, I-I try!”

“Yes Connie you do try, you do remember. But what you remember is dance routines and songs and guitar chords and stupid little things about everybody else but you forget what I tell you not a day before!” She spits out, her head shaking and her eyes scrunching up and I can practically sense the burning gaze of customers around the two of us.

“And you think I want that?” I bark, my hands clutching at the edges of the table “You- you think I want to be the s-stupid boyfriend who everyone think isn’t good enough for you because it looks like I don’t care?” The tears in my eyes become more forefront, a couple gracing my cheeks, which upon inspection makes Sasha do the same and she brings her hand up to her eyes to rub as she sniffs her own tears back.

“I want to think that babe I do! But how do you think it makes me feel when you remember stuff about everyone else but not about me?” She points her hands towards her chest, her body leaning forward in desperation “It makes me feel like you don’t even care enough about me to _try_!”

“I do try-”

“It doesn’t feel like it!”

“I do- I love you!”

“Connie, _I’m begging you_. Don’t make this… make it harder than it already is.” And I feel her walls of comfort, the support she gives me that I not just some pathetic excuse for a partner, for a friend, for a human- begin to break around me.

“What… what do you mean?” I croak out, the salty taste of tears running down to my quivering lips.

“You know what I mean Connie. I- I can’t do this” She sighs out shakily, leaning down to grab her back pushing her chair back in an attempt to stand “I love you but I can’t.”

“Nonono…“

“I’ve got to go-“

“ _Sasha please_ -“ I plead, pushing my own chair back until she raises her hand to stop me standing “We- we can sort this out!”

“Connie, no I can’t. Here-“ She rummages her purse for two crumbled ten dollar notes and puts them down on the table “this should be enough for my side- I’ve, I’ve got to go-“

“P-please don’t leave me! I’ll get better I promise I will! Sasha wait!”

“I’ll- um, I’ll see you at dance class.”

“Sash!” I practically yell, that in turn making almost the entire restaurant accustom to the display, Sasha stands and turns her head, looking at them all in embarrassment before hastily rubbing her eyes and making her way towards the exit, thanking the waiter for the meal on the way out.

“Sasha!” I yell again, standing and attempting to make a run after her, before the same waiter stops me at the door with the halt of his hand.

“Sir, you cannot leave before paying.”

And so I regress back into my chair, staring down at the half-eaten display in front of me, my eyes red and burning. For a moment I can feel the glances of customers and workers alike grazing over me, their incoherent whispers stinging my ears and but when I look up all eyes dart back to their own meals and leave me alone to contemplate the fact that I just lost the girl I love and it’s all my own fault. That the person I could say I truly ‘hated’ in the same way Charlie had hated me when I forgot to go to the creek that day- was myself.


	13. Act 1: Bertolt / Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connie can't handle his friends getting it on when he's having the worst night ever... and well, Levi has baggage... 
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback! Hope you enjoy <3

**Bertolt**

 

I should have told him sooner.

Fuck- I _really_ should have told him sooner.

It is difficult you see. I’m yet to find an appropriate manner in which to compose myself in order to allow the words to fall out, but nothing seems appropriate. It’s hard enough to come out in one way, but to do it in another… well that just adds on a second layer of the ever-present fear of rejection and humiliation. One could read books and watch Youtube videos and find a countless number of examples of the multitude ways you could come out to people ‘normally’… but hardly as many for _this_.

‘Hey, I’m gay’

That’s hard enough to say as it is.

‘Hey, I’m gay- and I’m asexual.’

Now that was a lot harder.

I guess in a way I should be telling people that I’m ‘homoromantic’. But that in itself is a struggle of increasing magnitude when no matter how you phrase yourself, there is always some asshole who comes along to tell you that ‘that’s not real’.

‘Okay, in your opinion it is not real’.

 I could accept the fact that some people were yet to understand the idea of it; I myself struggled to find a label I was comfortable with for a long time. But what I couldn’t stand was the aforementioned person telling me I ‘had’ to decide some other label instead.

‘You are gay’

‘But I don’t like sex- I am asexual’

‘You’ve just not found the right person yet’

‘No, I’m sure- I don’t like sex’

‘Well how can you like guys then?’

‘I’m homoromantic’

‘That’s not real’

It was a nauseating and continuous cycle that I still struggled to find escapism from. Even my parents, who- granted, were accepting of their son not being straight- would persistently tell me that I would find someone  eventually in the same way they would tell me I do in fact like musical theatre. As if they know my own mind more than I do myself.

I know I should have told Reiner sooner and I’m angry at myself for not doing so. I guess I was just selfish. I mean sure, I wouldn’t know what his reaction would be… I still didn’t, but that small self-centred part of me just wanted to hold onto him for as long as I could, to have one thing in my life above everything else, something that made me happy for once, that was my own, that could distract me from theatre and my parents and everything that came along with it.

 

But I hadn’t and now I can feel Reiner’s hand trailing down my abdomen as he continues to kiss and suck at the bit of skin where my neck connects to my jaw and I want to be enjoying myself, I really do, and as TMI as it sounds is the though, all I can think about is the thought of him being _in me_ \- which is making me nothing but anxious and in desperate need of retreat from the situation.

I’d tried it before and it wasn’t that I just needed to do it… the other way- it was just that it didn’t like the feeling. It makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable like: where should I put my hands? Do we talk or not? It makes me feel sticky and gross and unnecessarily attached in more ways than one.

And believe me it’s not Reiner, its not- he’s so sweet and gentle despite how largely-built he is, he’s dealt with so many of my annoying complaints at the world and my parents and college and he calls me babe and gives the best hugs and I can feel myself falling in love with him- it’s just I can’t be intimate with a person in _that way_.

I could tell Reiner had been trying to get things moving in this direction for a few weeks now, and I loved kissing him too so it wasn’t so much of a problem at first. That was until I started to feel his hand begin to grasp my hip or trail lower down under my shirt and each time I’d have to make up some sort of shitty excuse how I had to leave or didn’t think it was the right moment and Reiner being the amazingly patient gentleman he was, backed off every time virtually instantly.

And yet I can’t keep my charade up forever. In fact, I’ve already dug myself into a virtually inescapable hole given the fact I told Reiner I could stay the night and that Connie is out to dinner with Sasha and that there is a god-damn warm spice candle lit on the dresser.

I have to tell him, now. This has gone too far as it is- I can’t lie to him any longer, and I can’t put out either it just isn’t fair- to either of us.

Reiner’s lips move back up from my neck and reach my own- open-mouthed and _wanting_.

I’ve got to tell him. I’ve got to. Come on Bertl just do it already!

I feel his tongue slip into my mouth and I find myself breathing heavily out my nose, moving my hands up and grasping hold of his shirt- which fuck, he obviously perceives with the wrong intent and smiling, detaches himself only long enough to rid himself of the material before he’s back on me, one of his hands supporting himself above me, the other gracing my cheek.

Now Bertolt just do it! It was nice while it lasted but you’ve just got to grow up! He’s too good for you anyway, might as well stop pretending you could ever make this work now while there’s still time.

I’ve just gotta, break away for a second- just-

Reiner, seemingly out of nowhere, grinds his hips down against my own and my eyes practically spring open in shock before I’m pushing the blond off of me-

“Reiner Reiner wait-“ I spill out, my hands dropping from his shoulders when he’s far away enough to support himself on his knees, still towering over me.

“What, what is it? What’s wrong?” He asks frantically and fuck he’s still so sweet even now, but damn it I can’t handle lying to him any longer!

“I- um, I-“ I stumble, biting hard at my lip and trying rapidly to formulate some type of sentence as his eyes bore down worryingly into my own.

“Hey, hey it’s okay- what’s the matter?” He coos, his hand reaching back up to my face, his thumb slowly stroking against my cheek in an attempt to calm me down.

“I- I don’t-“ I let out one last shaking breath before screwing my eyes shut and practically busting out “I don’t like sex!” like its some sort of god-damn crime but I guess that’s the way I’ve been told to think about it.

It’s silent. Horrifically so.

“Oh.” Is all Reiner says as he leans away enough so that he’s sat on the back of his legs.

Bashfully, I allow my eyes to open yet I remain silently still. He’s not exactly looking at me, but nor is he looking away either. More that I can notice a haziness clouded in his eyes- like he’s taken himself from the current situation entirely.

I close my mouth into a tight line and swallow dryly once, my body trembling.

After a moment or two Reiner retreats and makes his way off the bed, picking up his shirt and putting it back on before leaving out his bedroom door.

I can’t move. My whole body is still, my hands clutching harshly at the black chequered quilt either side of the double bed. I can hear my own breath but practically nothing else and the emptiness of it all is frighteningly lonely.

It had to be done.

I can’t get upset about it, not now. I guess, I guess that’s my queue to leave? Still I’m struggling to bring myself to move my body just yet, perhaps in some pathetic hopefulness that he will at least come back in to tell me that we should no longer ‘see each other’. Disappointment isn’t worth it for his own sake, it’s not like he was ever my boyfriend in the first place.

A couple of minutes pass by before I hear footsteps approaching the bedroom, my eyes dart up in anticipation and I spot Reiner back in the doorway. In his hands- wait what? Two… spoons and… _ice-cream_?

“I hope mint chocolate is okay- looks like Connie ate the last of the strawberry.” Reiner sparks casually, making his way back over to the bed and sitting down beside me, his legs out and his back against the bedpost. His hand extends to pass me one of the spoons and awkwardly, I collect myself up to a sitting position the same as his own and speechlessly accept the spoon between my thumb and index finger.

“I-“ I start but end up cutting myself off, unable to render any form of response as I stare intensely at my lopsided reflection within the spoon. I gaze back to Reiner who’s began switching on the TV sitting on the desk in front of the bed and flicking through until he finds the movies section.

“The Winter Soldier is on in a couple of minutes- you’ve still not seen it right?”

“Um, yeah…” What the hell is going on? He heard me, right? Why isn’t he running out the door right now? Or even, getting me to leave instead? Why is he being so nice to me when I’m such a disappointment? “Reiner, I don’t understand- why?”

“Listen,” He breathes out, drops the remote down between us as he twists his body to face my own, his hand reaching out to grab my own, trembling one- “It’s not a problem.”

“But I’m such a let down-“ I drop the spoon down and cover my flaming face with the free hand.

“No you’re not!” Reiner reaches to pull the hand back, claiming the second hand between is own too “Hey, I love you more than sticking my cock inside something- that much is clear to me.”

Well that was blunt to say the least I mean- wait, hold on- he loves me? I mean that’s what he said right I didn’t imagine it I don’t think-

“Oh crap I was going to save that for the weekend or something, like take you out to dinner and stuff and tell you over some cheesy Italian acoustics and a zucchini appetiser -“ He bumbles out, dropping his head down in wonderful embarrassment.

“You… love me?” I whisper, my eyes glancing down at his hands still over mine and when he spots my gaze, smoothly, he twists his hand and interlocks his fingers with my own.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean- if that’s okay with you that is-“

“ _Ahaha_ \- okay?” I snort, instantly retracting one of my hands up to my mouth in an attempt to halt my own nervous fit of laughter “Of course it’s okay!”

“Really?” He half-laughs himself, his lips curling into a wide, child-like grin, and his clutch of my hand tightens to match my own.

“Yes!” I sing, leaning my head forwards to kiss him once on the cheek “… I love you too.”

“ _Ahahaha_ , oh my god we’re so ridiculous!” Reiner laughs himself, turning his head some more to capture my bottom lip in his own before resting his forehead against my own. “Does- does this mean I can finally start calling you my boyfriend? I mean Jean calls you it already but?”

“It’s about time!” I giggle against his lips, kissing him again. “But, we’re still getting a zucchini appetiser this weekend right? _Ahaha_ \- good.”

“WOAH!” A voice suddenly yells from the open doorway and both our heads instantly retract towards the source of the noise. Connie stands frozen in the door, none of us daring to break the barrier of discomfort.

“Why are you back so early?” Reiner breaks, his hand detaching from my own as his swings his legs up off the bed in order to investigate his friend’s unexpected arrival.

“NO NO YOU CARRY ON- I DIDN’T SEE _ANYTHING_!” Connie continues to cry out in an insanely loud manner. His face looks a little red, I mean its cold out but- wait has he been crying?

“Nothings going on!” Both Reiner and I retaliate; it is the truth after all. Connie, not listening however- raises his hands in defeat and spins on the balls of his feet back out the room.

“It’s fine it’s fine- you guys are basically dating- it’s to be expected!” I follow Reiner in standing, the both of us marching uniform behind Connie out into the open living area.

“Connie what’s wrong?” I soon jog after as he continues his mission towards the front door.

“Dude come on! Where are you going now?” Reiner questions as Connie shoves his keys back into his pocket and opens the apartment door in temperamental fury.

“FOR SOME WOMANLY ADVICE!” He yells once more before clambering out the door and slamming it behind him.

Well, that was bizarre…

“ _Womanly advice_? What’s that all about?” Reiner asks puzzlingly, his face screwing up in comic confusion.

“I have no idea.”

 

 

 

**Levi**

 

“ _Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset-_ “ I hum, my fingers bouncing on and off the computer keyboard with rapid precision, “ _du dududu du._ ”

Jets. Sharks. This shit is gonna kill me.

“ _Dududu du…We never had the love that ev'ry child oughta get._  “ Three months to go. Three months to go and we are no where near as ready as we should be.

Bertolt’s been missing class again. I tried, I really did- and the offer is still on the table if he wants to get the stick out his ass and get to work while he still has time. It would save me the hassle of re-writing the script with Sam as the lead if he did. I mean Sam is good, as good as understudies go. But he isn’t Bertolt. He doesn’t know how to manage Ymir in the same way… or at least bring her glaring ego back down to Earth with the rest of us.

“ _We ain't no delinquents… we're misunderstood-_ “ Damn, I should have never let the boys use the auditorium that time! Maybe then Bertolt wouldn’t have got caught up with Eren and his proverbial biscuit barrel of bothersome bandits. Perhaps then if the boy hadn’t got so involved with their teen-idol fantasies then he would have given into West Side Story like he should do.

“ _Deep down inside us there is-_ crap.” Coffees’ gone cold.

Sighing loudly, I plant the mug back down on the desk-top and let my face fall into my hands.

“Urghh…” I run my fingers through my hair once and shake my head, and looking back towards the screen, continue to type.

It’s not that I think Eren’s friends are bad guys. In fact I kind of like their enthusiasm, and Jean is a brilliant singer- just, their priorities- well their not the best for Eren… or for Bertolt it would seem.

Hoover needs to focus on theatre if he doesn’t have the balls to drop out, that’s all I ask of him. Eren on the other hand needs to focus on anything at this point that’s going to give him enough rocket fuel to push him into the world when he graduates. What will that boy do with himself?

Dance? Might as well.

Singing? Give me a break. That bands not good enough for him.

God, why do I have to play bad-cop all of the time? Erwin’s too deep into his ‘cool dad’ regime, which means I’ve got to be the one to set some sort of metaphorical guidelines down in order to stop the kid ending up living in this house when he’s in his mid-thirties. Why do I even care? I never signed up for the role of ‘marginally strict parent who is not actually a parent’ in the first place. Yet I still seem to do it.

Well it’s too late at night and I’m too low on caffeine stores to bother contemplating the level of my devotion to the boy; that sort of thing just makes my head hurt.

I need another drink.

 

I’m home alone tonight. Erwin has some dull health and safety seminar in Tulsa this weekend so he’s gone till Monday, and Eren usually stays at Mikasa’s house on a Thursday- although the likelihood of that taking place seems rather minimal given their argument last week _and_ the fact I’ve yet to see Mikasa here since then. Eren refuses to talk about it, and even when I mentioned to Erwin what had happened, the boy refused to speak his mind to his Godfather even upon the gentle probing of extended PS4 privileges. I suppose he and Mikasa were bound to have some sort of domestic _bagarre_ at one point or another- they’re at that age where everything is a teenage tragedy after all, it’s just irritating not being able to defuse the tensions.  

Only when I return to the study, fresh cup of coffee in hand, do I notice the familiar blue screen and chiming sound of a Skype call.

“Hellooo, Levi!” His tender and benevolent voice bellows through the speakers, his hands both waving wildly at me. How on earth is he so full of energy? Isn’t it like 5am over there?

“Hey Tebogo” I smile honestly, gesturing a small wave of my own “how’s things going over there?”

Tebogo Mahinya, the group leader and organiser of the Botswanan branch of ‘Share a Hand’-the charity program Erwin, Eren and I have taken part in every summer since 2009. Erwin had been looking for any form of work to do over the summer back then anyway, when he stumbled across the blog of Tebogo. At the time he was a young and rather inspiring charity worker from Gaborone who was constantly looking for helping hands from virtually everywhere, to aid him and his team in missions across his home country, giving packages to poor and rural villages, and teaching children unable obtain education nearby.

Tebogo is a highly spirited and energetic man, and I respect him greatly for it. He seems to have mastered the idea of loving ones self down to a ‘T’, and now devotes his time to teaching others to do the same, helping them and providing the means in order to do so.

Our most recent trip this summer involved a lot more manual labour, now Eren’s older he’s able to help out with a lot of heavy lifting, and so the main goal of the summer was to get fitted at least five working clean-water wells in the villages we were based around.

“Oh it is going absolutely wonderful Levi! The Batshegi family are all doing very well, and we got that new heard of cows in we were after!” He beams, his hands flaying out excitedly and delving into his pocket to point photographs at the screens.

“That’s great news! I hope Miss Tlou’s maths lessons have been going down well.” I smile into my coffee mug and taking a long-needed warming gulp of the dark liquid.

“You can bet on it, the woman is a natural! So, how are things for you three? Is Jaeger-boy around?”

Tebogo has always been great with Erwin and I. Unlike his countries laws would have it; Tebogo’s views on homosexuality are not to disregard it as some taboo form of unnaturalness and rather to welcome everyone equally with open arms. Despite his own lack of prejudice however, our two-month excursions regularly have me calling myself Erwin’s cousin and sharing a tent with a sharp-witted German man named Kasch- who in hindsight, wasn’t too bad given we both shared an indisputable love for both dark-minded comedy and for late-night indulgent cashew nuts. And when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it all, being separated was worth it for what we were doing over there.

“Nah you missed them, it’s just me for the night.”

“Ah that boy doesn’t have a relaxing bone in his body- always so full of energy!”

“Tell me about it… I just wish he would put it to good use.” I roll my eyes, my hands rubbing over my face.

“Oh Levi, you can’t force that boy into doing something he doesn’t want to do. Even if you think it will make him happy.” Tebogo lectures me in his usual Clark Griswold fashion; he just likes to see everyone smiling all the time.

“Yeah yeah I know-“ I start, yawning and stretching out my arms over my head “I’m not some sort Disney villain in all of this.”

“I’m sure Eren knows that, that boy adores you,” I Doubt that “Now I’m sorry to cut this short but it looks like it’s time for me to start preparing breakfast. Tell Erwin and Eren I send them both love and good wishes! I’ll talk to them soon!”

“Goodbye Tebogo” I smile, lifting my hand up “good luck out there.”

“And good luck to you too Levi!”

Tebogo is the first to hang-up and when the chat is cancelled I let my hand drop down with a satisfactory ‘thud’ against the desk and yawn once again.

“Ugh, I don’t need luck. A fucking miracle, that’s what.” I sigh to myself, extending my hand back over the computer mouse and opening up my E-mails, maybe those set constructors have finally figured out when they’ll start bringing the stuff in.

“ _Du dududd- gee, Officer Krupke-_ wha-“ My eyes grace over the messages in my inbox, “Urgh, spam, spam, more spam” I sigh, clicking message after message and dragging them into my junk folder “no Barnes and Nobles I don’t want half price John Green books.”

Spam, spam, Hanji, American Express, spam, Amazon- Erwin needs to stop ordering trash bags that don’t fit the can- spam. Soon enough my eyes graze over one message in particular… hmm ‘important’- wait, hang on-

 The subject, the sender, the- the- FUCK.

“OH FUCK!” Nononono, shitshit _shit_ , how?

I’ve got to get rid of this- what, what is this?

‘In regards to your voluntary hearing for convict-‘

What, why would they ask _me_?

‘As part of the agreements of your post-serving at Pennsylvania Eastern State-Penitentiary-‘

 _Oh god_ -

‘Required to make yourself present and inform your nearest parole officer-‘

“FUCKFUCKFUCK NONO” I yell out, sliding back from the computer in my chair before rapidly standing and walking back up to the screen to read again, my hands pulling at my hair “NONO!”

Oh Christ- has, has anybody used the computer? Fuck no, unread, right- but can they see it still wait-

I’ve got to get rid of this-fuck oh god-

“They can’t-“ they can’t expect me to talk for him can they?

Erwin can’t know, neither of them can damn it, I was so careful!

Fuck- oh god what if he finds out- SHIT

“Shitshitshit!”

I’ve got to delete this, now before he finds it, before- before-

Frantically I dart for the mouse, my legs practically giving way as I collapse in front of the monitor and drag the E-mail towards the delete button-

Then it’s gone. Just like that.

 

“ _Ha ha, f-fuu_ ”

I feel the crucifying weight lift off my chest in an instant, only leaving me now with the stinging feeling in my scalp from yanking at my hair and curdling guilt in my stomach that has become somewhat bearable after so many years.

 Yeah, I can control that much.

It was so easy in retrospect- how it was there in front of me one second ago… and now it’s… well it’s  gone, absorbed into the depths of cyberspace where it belongs- for good.

“Ha- it’s gone… it’s gone.”

It’s okay, it’s going to be fine. It’s gone- no one saw. Erwin’s in Tulsa, he didn’t see.

It’s all okay. Breathe.

Finally allowing myself to take a deep breath in and out through my nose, I collapse back into the chair; my body still trembling, my hands in fists but shaking on my lap. It feels like my knees could give way again any second.

He can’t know.

He can _never_ know.


	14. Act 1: Armin / Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!! This is honestly one of my favorite chapters of the fic, I was so excited about writing it- this was one of the first scenes I thought about when planning Rutherfordium, so it feels so good to finally have it out there!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy all the jearmin, I sure enjoyed writing it!- Thank you for all the lovely feedback <3
> 
> Music reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX-QaNzd-0Y

**Armin**

 

“Remind me again what we’re doing at Walmart.” I question, closing the door of Jean’s Citroen as he speed walks through the parking lot towards the glowing superstore. “I mean I like two-for-one offers as much as the next guy-“

“It came to my attention only a moment after asking if you wanted dinner-“ He cuts me off “that I’m actually poor as fuck, so The Four Seasons is out of the question.”

“Yeah but you do realize we’re at a supermarket right? You buy the food here- not dine-in.”

“Pft- ‘ _supermarket_ ’!” He mocks, breathing into his hands before shoving them into his pockets in retreat from the late-night chilly air as I catch up to him, making our way into the store. “Just trust me, all will be revealed later.”

It’s seemingly peculiar that I _do_ in fact trust him, in such a small amount of time that is. I’m struggling immensely to figure out the reason for this however, perhaps it’s the way he says things, or even what he says for that matter. Or maybe it’s the fact that when he talks, he smiles, and when he smiles his mouth curls up at one side in a lopsided grin and it makes him look intriguingly mischievous and a teeny bit sexy-

Bollocks, I’m staring.

“ _Your carriage sir!_ ” Jean pulls the trolley- no, shopping cart, out of the park and gestures me to get inside.

“Seriously?” I snort, readjusting the bobble-hat on my head and with a boost from Jean’s hand, hop inside the cart.

“Like I said, this friend-date is to make-up for all the crap I’ve subjected you to already. So I suppose I can manage being your chauffeur for the evening.”

Friend-date, that terminology was a disappointment to say the least.

I don’t think it had really registered until he said those words, that I actually wanted him to ask me out properly. I was able to play it off easily enough, but then again his uncontrollable stammering and the redness in his cheeks still gave me the subtle hope that he wanted more too. It’s not like I can push him either, the guy isn’t even ‘out’ to the majority of his friendship circle- so I suppose I can handle a few more cheesy pick-up lines as long as I get to spend more time with him.

“Now what are you feeling? Fish? Pasta?” Jean slides into the store, quickly adjusting himself as to stop me literally flying to the other end of the isle on the smooth flooring. The store itself is pretty quiet, enough so that the two of us can occupy a full drinks isle for ourselves; then again it is growing on 11pm. The clinical humming of the refrigerators and buzzing of the overhead bright-lights somewhat over-shadow the sound of Lady Gaga over the radio speakers, however all other sounds seem to become null-and-void to me in the expense of Jean.

“I don’t mind, you decide.” I hum, my back falling against the cart and extending my legs out until my feet reach the end.

“Fish it is- ooo salmon!” He hums, tossing a pack of two fillets into the trolley along with a pack of stir-in sauce. “And now for some greens.” He glides through the isles, hopping up on the wheels when he picks up enough momentum, laughing at childish daringness of riding the cart round the store with little regards to health and safety.

“Woah woah hold the phone Kirstein! That’s right back it up!” I break, pointing my finger out to a shelf on the other end of the isle “I spot Mountain Dew at half-price!”

“Oh cool, you wanna go home and watch Pewdiepie too? Should I grab us some Doritos while we’re here?” He fakes-enthusiasm, pointing his thumb behind him towards the snacks isle, his mouth wide and gaudy like one of those carnival heads.

“Man, shut up! That shits expensive in the UK- lemmie at it!” I snort, smacking him playfully on the arm as he jogs past to pick up a bottle, graciously dropping it beside me in the growing cart.

“ _KA- hoo KA-hoo_ , where to next space ranger?” Jean covers his mouth with his hand, imitating static on top of a rather flamboyant Buzz Lightyear impersonation.

“Forward commander, to the planet of ‘Isle 7’! There we will search for the legendary relic that is- ‘the baked potato’!”

“To infinity, and beyond!” Jean chants, pushing the cart forward a feet metres before hopping onto the back again, floating down the isle and grinding one foot down against the floor to make the sharp turn at the end.

 

Only when Jean drops the last pack of vegetables into the cart and begins to push again do my eyes shift to the side where I spot a very, well… angry looking man. He can’t be five years older than the two of us; hands shoved aggressively into the pockets of his hoodie, five-o’clock shadow prominent on his tensed jaw, and to top it all off, a god-damn Donald Trump baseball cap.

“Ugh,” He snorts, it’s guttural and crude, the type of scoff that makes a persons nose curl up and their teeth bare, “faggots.”

My immediate reaction is to turn to Jean, hell I’ve heard enough of that shit in my life to not warrant much of a response- but Jean, well he doesn’t even seem ready to let the world know, never mind a jerk in the Walmart root-vegetable isle.

His clutch of the cart becomes a little tighter, enough so that the whiteness in his knuckles stands out prominent and unnerving. His head is dipped low and eyebrows in a strong and concentrating line. I open my mouth a fraction, not that I’m sure what to say- sorry? That or give the asshole sporting the Trump merch a piece of my mind-

“It doesn’t matter.” Jean quickly diffuses before I manage to open my mouth any further, causing me to retreat back from the impending brawl which perhaps would end with me throwing an asparagus or two across the isle unless halted.

I can’t bring myself to argue with him on the matter, a scene is probably the last thing Jean wants. With that I give the ignorant bastard once last glance as he turns the corner at the end of the isle and Jean continues to push in the opposite direction.

 

I never had to come out to my parents; I guess I was lucky in that regard. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, I would have if needed be- they just, well they just always knew. I guess I was pretty obvious like that. The same went for my friends and the rest of my family, they all just seemed to ‘know’. They never pestered me about girlfriends, never looked particularly surprised when I mentioned boyfriends, my grandma didn’t even have a good old cry when she figured it out- then again she always was more of a leopard-print, Club Tropicana, spin-cycle, kind-of woman rather than the next patron-saint of heterosexuality.

I guess I should be happy with that. I mean I know how hard it is for some people, how much of a negative reaction they can receive... and I’ve always been incredibly grateful for the love and support I’ve been pretty much soaked in; still, it somehow feels like I missed out on some kind of ‘gay initiation’ if that was ever a thing. I never had the big ‘reveal’ that’s in the movies or those self-help books by charismatic-sounding reality stars that they sell in the back of Urban Outfitters- but then again that all seems like some made-up bullshit anyway.

Nah, you don’t just ‘come out’ once… you constantly are, and I guess that’s what Jean finds so terrifying.

 

It’s once we’ve paid that I spot _him_ again. Just as Jean drops the last bag in beside me in the cart, our old flame Mr. ‘faggot’ enthusiast saunters close by, following us out the exit, 6-pack of Bud in hand and E-cig hanging slack out his mouth.

“Cock suckers.” He murmurs through the metal between his teeth, only just loud enough for me to pick it up, but making the hair on the back of my neck stand nevertheless.

That’s it- he’s not getting away with it this time-

“For you baby, any day!” I bark, twisting around to face him, biting at my thumb playfully and hoisting my legs up over the top of the cart. The sudden interjection makes Jean’s head dart up in a frantically hilarious mixture of surprise and horror.

“Whatareyoudoing?!” Jean stammers, his gaze darting rapidly between me and the man, quickly picking up speed towards the car.

“Oh please that guy probably jerks off to Evan Peters behind closed doors.”

“HEY!” I hear the man shout and, snapping my head round again I spot him breaking into a sprint across the packing lot- oh shit shit-

“OH GOD RUN!” I yell, trying desperately to keep composed between nervous fits of laughter at Jean’s panic and my own churning adrenaline.

“WHAT?”

“RUN RUN GO! _AHAHAHA_!” I screech through dubious amounts of giggling, the icy wind making my ears go numb as the momentum of Jean’s acceleration across the parking lot increases, the strands of free hair flying away from my face.

“SHIT!” Jean squawks, practically hoisting me over his shoulder out of the cart and tossing me into the car along with the bags, the worry on his face is prominent although not so much so that it fails to fully mask the epinephrine -fuelled grin plastered across his mouth at our childish delinquency. “YOU ARE INSANE!”

“ _AH HAHA_ \- LEAVE THE CART QUICK!” I yell, twisting round in the seat as Jean slams the car door shut and fumbles the keys into the ignition, spotting the man almost at the rear-window, his face red and vain-filled, I flay both my middle fingers up in the air in his direction with devilish satisfaction which appears to only worsen his temper.

 Jean practically Vin Diesels out of the parking lot, as if this was a damn Fast and Furious movie, granting me one great, wicked grin before turning his attention to the road where we both try to catch our shaking and chilly breathe through explosions of teary laughter.

 

 

**Jean**

 

Armin is incredibly, no, hysterically insane; I have finally come to terms with it. Never in my right mind did I think our little escapade dubbed horrifically as ‘the friend-date’ would end with the both of us a fraction of a way of getting shanked in the Walmart parking lot, but here we are. It was terrifying… and invasive, that son-of-a-bitch was bang out of order, so why am I smiling so much it’s making my jaw numb? Why does the sweatiness from my nervous palms not panic me, instead simply add more to the thrilling butterflies buzzing around my stomach?

“Mind your step, that one is loose.” I note, pointing down behind me to the metal step before Armin manages to put his foot down.

“Thanks- so, we’ve gone from college... to Secaucus... to Hell’s Kitchen, anywhere else on your little road trip this evening?” Armin smirks, gripping hold of the rusting railing and spinning the corner to meet me by the apartment’s sliding, auburn-red door.

“Nope, we’re here!” I knock on the cool metal thrice. Almost instantly the door slides upon in such an abrupt manner it makes me take a few steps back. Mikasa storms quickly out of the apartment, hood up and hands in pockets, not bothering to greet either of us as she begins her decent down the staircase. I don’t even have time to call for her- to apologise about what happened in the dance studio- before Annie makes her way out the door too.

“Hey! Debbie Downer, at least let me give the keys to Armin and Team Gale before you mosey on into the night!” Annie yells over the balcony before spinning on the balls of her feet and dropping the apartment keys into my hand.

“Is she doing okay?” I ask, genuinely worried, because- as much as I’d like to pummel Eren’s face into the dirt right now- I know Mikasa must be hurting.

 “You’re lucky she wanted to go out to get shitfaced or you’d be eating your organic chicken shit on the sidewalk. Hey Windsor, you’re not still getting verbally assaulted by Queen Elsa over here right?”

I’d messaged Annie pretty soon after we’d all left the dance studio this afternoon. She said Mikasa has more or less stuck in her passive-aggressive form of grief over a more tearful route, in reality that made her pretty scary, however it also meant she was itching for a night out on the town to drown her sorrows instead of staying in with a tray of finger chocolates and a Spotify break-up playlist.

My second port-of-call was to ask Annie if I could borrow their apartment for the evening while they were out. After all, if I had promised Armin an entertaining evening, I figured Mikasa and Annie’s apartment would be the perfect location given its pretty copper-lit balcony and rather surprising partial-view of De Witt Clinton Park in its night-time glory. The whole place was a complete steal really, large-open plan living area and kitchen, two reasonably-sized bedrooms and a bathroom with one of those nice tubs with the big brass handles already inside. Apparently the apartment is rent-regulated and those two hit the jack-pot like they were Rachel Green and Monica Geller; though it makes me ridiculously jealous when I look back at my own shitty 2-by-4 shoe-box of a dorm room in measly comparison.

“Ya know, I think I’m safe.”

“But I’m not…” I murmur under my breath, earning a snort and jab in the gut from Armin.

“Alright well I’ll leave you two to it. We should be back around 3-” Annie claps, giving Armin a quick high-five before turning back and leaning close to my ear “have sex on my couch and I’ll break your ulna.” I don’t even know what an ulna is but her words are enough to make the air catch in my throat and I let out a deep and guttural cough as she makes her way past me down the stairs.

I have _not_ been thinking about anything like _that_ taking place tonight.

 

*

 

“Crap.”

“Well, I guess it’s just a _really_ smoked salmon…”

“It’s fucking charcoal.” I hit my head against the counter with a low groan- I guess I was pretty in-over-my-head thinking I could cook such a fancy dish when I’ve basically been living off grilled cheese sandwiches for the past year and a half, “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter; you can blame TLC for those midnight Here Comes Honey Boo Boo reruns” Armin hums, his legs swinging up before hoping off the kitchen counter and towards the fridge, “lets see what we can get instead.”

“Not much I bet. We’re students after all.”

I follow him up as Armin opens the fridge door and- as expected- the content is pretty darn disappointing. A bottle of milk, half-a-dozen free-range eggs, an opened packet of couscous with a sticky note reading ‘Mikasa’s’ on the top, a tub of mascapone, and a couple of Old Milwaukee’s on the bottom shelve- although I suppose snagging one of those would, again, warrant Annie breaking some obscure bone inside my body.

“Ah, jackpot!” Armin chimes, diving behind the cream cheese and pulling out two Lunchable packs “Obviously the highest form of gourmet there is!”

 

Despite the cold October temperatures, with the company of jackets and heater on full-blast from the patio doors, it was pretty cosy up on Mikasa and Annie’s outside balcony. The cool metal complied with the same red colour scheme of the front of the apartment block as well as the descending fire-escape. The whole setting would have been pretty unattractive if it wasn’t for the girl’s aesthetic handy-work; the whole balcony had been decked-out as soon as they moved in, claiming that otherwise any form of fresh air they received from hours of suffocating dusting and decorating would have made them even more depressed then they wished to put up with. A two-person, white lawn table and chairs set was central, overlooking the best vantage point out towards the park and city lights in the distance, surrounded then by countless potted plants, wind chimes, and bird feeders. Hanging from the roof above were a large conglomerate of white-fairy lights along with some wooden primary-coloured stars and miniature lanterns all tangled together in a cluster-fuck of Instergram-esque décor. All of which however was topped off only by my most favourite possession in the whole apartment- Annie’s secret-Santa present from Ymir the year before, an exquisite outside wall-hanging in intricate lacy-italic citing the phrase ‘fuck bitches, get money’.

“Sorry… this is the worst.” I mumble into my glass, although I can’t help but laugh at this point as to the extent of our adventures over the evening.

“Are you kidding me? We’ve got cheese crackers and Mountain Dew- this is the best night ever!” Armin giggles, and I can’t help but appreciate how nice his rosy face looks under the dim light above us. Noticing my glance, Armin- if I’m not totally imagining things at this point- dips his head down a little and brushes a fallen strand of hair back behind his ear bashfully. “Hey, listen… I’m sorry about what happened with Eren today” He says slowly, not looking back up towards me until he’s finished “it must be tough fighting with your friend like that.”

Yeah he was right, it is tough. How can Eren think I’d ever bang his girlfriend! God, the whole Grocery store fiasco and everything that followed almost made me forget how pissed off that guy’s got me!

“You know, lets not talk about Eren.” I start, smiling- he is not going to piss me off any further today- I’ve got a recording contract on the line, homework assignments to deal with, my mom and dad to worry about, trying not to make anymore of a fool of myself in front of Armin _again_ \- no, Eren doesn’t exist to me right now.

“You good?”

“Yeah I’m great- let’s talk about you.”

“About me? Wow that was corny.” Armin snorts, shaking his head.

“Alright Judge Judy, quit it with the bullying over here!”

“Okay I’m sorry I’m sorry!” He grins, waving his hands in front of him and reaching forward to poke my fake-pouting face “What do ya wanna know?”

“Anything, something obscure… I know! We’ll tell each other our deepest darkest secrets one at a time, you go first then I’ll go.”

“Our ‘ _deepest darkest secrets_ ’, wow that’s a bit of a forward proposal don’t you think Mr. Kirstein?”

“I don’t really think it works that way for us though does it?” I grin, biting my lip- my gaze daring to dart down quickly towards Armin’s mouth and back up in one movement.

“ _Aha_ , okay- but this could get serious you know?”

“Why have you killed?” I bring my arms up in front of my face “Because I’ll have you know I was my middle schools taekwondo champion for an entire gym lesson one time!”

“Oh you’ll never find out!” He smiles, rubbing his chin and looking up in thought, “Ooo what to tell? Right, um- I crashed my first and only car into a telephone pole only a week after passing my test.”

“Wow, I’m never letting you drive my car. Ever.”

“Aww you don’t trust me?”

“Not with Cyril the Citroen, she is my baby!” I reply dead-pan making him laugh even more, “Right then my turn, now you’ve got to promise not to poke fun.”

“Me? Poke fun?” Armin gasps and brings his hand swiftly up to his chest in mock-horror.

“I’m serious!” I chuckle, fidgeting in my chair “Right, well- when I was about fourteen I um, I had a bit of a… a scene phase.”

“A what?”

“A scene phase, you know like, listens to MCR and Bullet For My Valentine, neon bangs, cringe-worthy MySpace profile-“

“NO WAY! I DEMAND PICTURES!” Armin half-yells, his mouth wide into a large grin while I let my head fall into my hands, whining-

“Nooo, they are too horrific trust me!”

“Alrighalright I’ve got one- right, so basically I well- I lost my virginity to this guy right? But… what he’d failed to tell me until after we’d done it was that we’d actually had sex in his parent’s bed, because he didn’t want me to see his Sailor Moon posters.”

“OHMYGOD!” I burst, my hands darting up towards my mouth “NO!”

“YES!”

The both of us end up in heaps of laughter from there, both whipping the tears from our eyes and clutching our cramping stomachs as Armin continues the story of the mortifying sexscapade.

God, it feels good to laugh too. Armin seems to have brought that side out of me tonight, I mean sure, I’ve been able to have a small laugh here and there, but since my dad got deployed everything has been rather glum… except when I’m with him that is.

Being with Armin is like going to some out-of-earth world like Narnia or Middle-Earth, everything is new and exciting and a complete distraction to any other shit that can be happening. We have differing interests and opinions sometimes, but all that does is make for a more interesting and intellectual convocation. Armin is incredibly fearless in many ways and this fiery passion devoted to the ethics he believes in make up for any lack of physical strength he may exhibit or that others may look down on him for. He’s so much stronger than me in this respect, all I want is to latch onto that strength and when I’m with him it feels like I’m learning how to. Armin is so free and _fine_ with being who he is, that for once- it makes me feel like I could be too.

As silly as it sounds, I want to be the big fucking homosexual Jean Kirstein that I am back in Albany, the one my parents know. I mean, they are fine with it, Armin is fine with it- it’s pretty fucking obvious the girls already know and they seem fine with it, so what’s stopping me from telling the guys too?

I hate to admit it’s the false-sense of fake power bullshit that I constantly tell myself it is. That it’s because it’s my own business, business that Eren and his gigantic ego thinks has a right to know- which is the exact reason why I won’t tell him.

Damn, my old man would kill me if he knew I felt this way about it.

Corporal Archie Kirstein, my father, is- in a nutshell- someone who is unafraid to speak his mind; I guess I get that from him.  My dad is so unapologetic about who he is and always persuades me to do the same, when I finally had the guts to come out- in a heap of messy tears and apologies, he sat their and listened to all I had to say before he gave me the biggest hug I think he’s ever given me and told me-

“Jean, I never want you to be sorry about who you are. As long and you never hurt anybody else or yourself, then I don’t care who or what you are- and you should never have to hide that.”

Maybe that’s why I was so attracted towards Armin, because he shares the same universal ideology I was raised on to not deal with anybody’s bullshit judgements.

Yeah, my dad is a great guy… the best kind-

 

“Jean, are you okay?” Armin’s voice is soft and cautious, looking down I notice his hand lying atop my own.

“ _Yeah_ \- sorry…” I gasp out, fuck I need to stop spacing out around his guy.

“You look really upset, is something wrong?” Yes. Yes it is.

I miss him… I, I miss my dad.

He’d know what to do about all of this. About Eren and Mikasa, he’d know how I could fix this, how to tell Eren the truth without hurting him. My dad would know how to tell the guys about Ian and the record deal, how to tell them about _everything_.

I’m… scared. And I don’t know how to bottle it up for much longer.

“My dad is in Afghanistan.” I whisper out, still looking down at Armin’s hand on my own. Unnaturally enough however, he doesn’t move it away. Instead Armin lifts his other hand and encases that around my own as well, with a deep breath starting-

“If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

His words create some kind of warm imaginative toxicity that gets lodged within my throat, rendering me inept of forming some sort of solid response except the rapid nod of my head and a quick ‘mhm’.

I’ve been ‘friends’ with Armin for a month. A month and already I spend half my convocations with him pouring out my heart and soul like we’re at the centre of a damn Nicholas Sparks novel. It’s just… he’s so _easy_ to talk to.

And he listens, like really pays you full attention- which is a nice sentiment after just being known as ‘that guy who plays base in Eren’s band’ since I moved to this city.

In any case I suppose that’s one thing me and Eren do actually share, even if I hate it- we both crave the attention of others like it’s a drug.

“…You know I can relate to you a little bit, with the family drama stuff I mean.”

Wait- what?

No way Armin has family troubles come on, he’s like a fucking ray of sunshine-

“My dad… um, my dad has HIV.”

What?

“U-Um I, I’m sorry what?” I stammer out, darting my eyes back down to our hands where Armin now seems to awkwardly be twiddling with my fingers before retracting his hand away in a sharp movement.

“-Sorry. Well, yeah um- so my parents are not actually together anymore” That’s new, “they’re still on friendly terms- that’s all fine, just fell out of love or something weird like that.”

He continues talking for a while and although I am listening I can’t help but sit in bewilderment, my mouth half-open and eyes widened. Armin, he, well he seems like such a level-headed person, he’s never brought up his family much at all really, although he’s never acted sad about it either.

I totally misjudged his capability of having his own emotional struggles in the midst of my own, I just thought that because he was happy and smiling pretty much every time I saw him- except on those few occasions when we first met- that that level of emotion was present on the inside as well.

“Hey come on don’t look all sad at me like that okay its fine. It’s actually a good thing really- well, no not a good thing that was the wrong choice of words. It’s an eye-opening thing, that’s what it is.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and rubbing the fabric of his coat between his fingers absentmindedly before continuing, “Anyway, my dad had met this lady about a year ago- Sarah she was called. She was nice enough I mean; she worked in a furniture outlet I think… well anyway they went out for a while and soon enough my dad started feeling tired a lot and getting fevers all the time. He went to go get it checked out and then, then they told him he had got HIV.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Is all I can say. Heck, it’s not exactly a normal convocation to have with a person after all.

“You know what the weirdest part is? I’m not even mad at Sarah, not really. I mean sure, she should have told him; it could have easily been avoided. But I just feel sorry for her really, the fact that she didn’t feel like she could tell my dad, that she felt _so_ isolated and deprived of human contact out of fear of being rejected… that she ended up lying in order to avoid it. I guess I just find it a real eye-opener that she felt the need to keep something like that a secret- because people would think she was ‘wrong’ if they found out.”

Talk about an ‘eye-opener’ alright.

Here I was, worrying about what Eren, Connie and Reiner would think of me and my potential recording contract, of telling them I like guys- when one of them already does for fucks sake! God my head had been so far up my own asshole I’ve forgotten how much worse some people have it… I feel awful.

“Hey, I know what you’re thinking. Come on, I didn’t tell you all that to make you feel bad about yourself,” Armin jabs, a soft smile finally reforming, instantly returning us to a fragment of equilibrium “Jean, you have just as much a right to be worried about yourself as anybody else. I thought telling you that would make you understand that you shouldn’t feel ashamed to tell people the truth, when you are ready that is.”

“I’m not ashamed.” I reply firmly with a quick shake of my head.

“Well that’s good.” Armin hums satisfactory, leaning back into his chair, and craning his neck back to face me.

“-What?” I chuckle when Armin stays silent and continues to stare, a small smile on his face, still enough that I’m glad I can use to cold air as an excuse for the pink in my cheeks.

“It’s funny isn’t it?” He grins, lifting his hand up towards me, his thumb first pointing up, then twisting every-which degree as if I’m one of his portrait models that he’s trying to figure out, “How easy it is to talk to one another.”

“Well we didn’t really have much else to hide from each other as it was.”

“I guess so,” His voice is almost lost as it begins to trail off at the end, his next words even quieter but still audible enough to make my heart-rate increase to an embarrassing degree, “want me to teach you how to dance?”

I’m dreaming there is no doubt about it.

This has to be, he’s too cute to ask me to dance are you kidding me? And I can’t dance- like at all, I’ll look like a fool I’ll stand on his feet, I’ll fall over, he will think I’m weird I can’t-

“Well?”

“What?”

“ _Well_ are you gonna leave a guy hanging or are you gonna bust a move?”

“Um- okay.” I stand awkwardly quick. Fuck, really smooth Jean. Armin simply laughs before standing himself and walking over, removing his coat and gesturing me to do the same.

“Have Annie and Mikasa got any music?”

“Ah yes!” I dart inside rapidly and stammer over the stereo and assortment of CD’s piled up next to it.

No, no, definitely not- ah, this… maybe…

‘ _I want you by my side, so that I never feel alone again_ ’

“Oh wow okay-“ Armin starts, retracting a few steps,

“Hey it’s either this or Annie’s not-so-secret K-Pop collection” I offer up, extending my hands out to him, “aren’t you gonna teach me some of those salsa skills of yours?”

‘ _I hope they didn't get your mind, your heart is too strong, anyway_ ’

“I didn’t know you were so eager!” He steps forward, “Here, put your hand- yep there, and this one here.” Instructing me, Armin pulls my hand down to rest on his waist,

Okay okay- um

The contact instantly makes me five times more nervous then I am already while Armin interlocks my other hand with his own and smiles up at me encouragingly.

“Okay so step back on your right foot-“ I follow his direction, quickly diverting my eyes from his and towards the floor in order to avoid any form of catastrophic accident, “yeah see like that, now try to the left, yeah nice- see you got it!” Armin praises, and I can’t help but look back up to smile at him again, “You’ll be wearing those low-cut tops and tight pants in no time!”

“Oh sush!” I roll my eyes at his teasing, continuing to follow his lead as he picks it up, then as he spins himself around under my arm,

‘ _I_ _want you we can bring it on the floor, never danced like this before_ ’

“ _Aahaha_! There you go!” Armin laughs, pulling away and grabbing both my hands in his own now, sliding our arms back-and-forth between us and moving his body slowly from side to side.

_‘We don't talk about it- dancing on, do the boogie all night long, stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it’_

It’s not long before we are both broken apart and lost in our own non-constructed slow-mo jump around on the balcony, every cheesy twist and shout from the batusi to breaking our legs like we are Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega having us laughing and singing along to the point everything else in existence seem to evaporate completely. In the moment all other comprehensible thoughts I could conjure up are lost between the strands of Armin’s golden, shining hair as he runs is fingers through delicately so, before reaching his arms up towards the sky and grinning in such giddy fondness, its as if the moon and the stars are the love of his life.

He looks beautiful.

Armin dives forward and grabs hold of my arms this time, pulling me close enough that he has to look up at me, he’s still as mesmerizing up-close and I don’t just mean physically.

The more I get to know about him, the more I begin to understand… it just gives me more and more reason to want to be around him, he’s so beautifully interesting that I don’t think I can control the urge to be even closer.

I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat right now, because to me it’s pulsating through my ears and I can feel the blood rushing through my body, tingling my arms where his skin meets my own, making my face red and burning no doubt too.

I can’t help but detach my gaze from his fucking _glistening_ eyes and they drop down curiously towards Armin’s ever-so-slightly parted lips. He has freckles, they’re small and faded but they’re there all the same. His skin looks smooth and healthy, no where near as rough as my own. His lips… they’re a pale pink, pretty in a way, no doubt numb from the cold… still, they look really soft-

“You-“ Armin murmurs, but still I can’t seem to divert my eyes, even though he must know I’m looking for sure “you have a nice... jaw.”

The oddness of his words don’t really register as a singular clear thought, although I’m not quite positive he knows what he’s saying either at this point.

Armin’s grip of my arms loosen and in one fluid movement I draw one of my hands up to cup the side of his face,

“Thanks-“ I close my eyes as I whisper, and drop my head down to catch his bottom lip between my own.

 

For the sake of being poetic, and the fact that its true- kissing Armin is like that feeling of getting into a freshly made bed, or floating in a warm pool… it just feels right… and _good_. His lips taste kind of sweet like citrus… I guess I can thank Walmart for once in my life for having god-damn Mountain Dew on sale.

I pull away gradually and let my eyes open, spotting Armin doing the same- though now they seem darker somehow. ‘Husky’ isn’t exactly the right word, but in any case the look he’s giving me is so fucking attractive I don’t know why I’m not kissing him again already.

“…I thought that this was a ‘friend-date’?” Armin mutters teasingly, his hands slowly sliding from my arms towards my chest and shoulders. His face is still so close to my own that our noses are almost touching, he’s so near in fact I can still feel his breath against my skin and I’m desperate for the contact.

I’m desperate for him.

What the hell am I waiting for?

“Oh fuck it it’s a real date.” I sigh in one gasping breath before quickly drawing my second hand up to the other side of his face and bringing our mouths together; this time keen, open, and hot.

To say I’m not exactly strategic or forward-planning in the slightest, our mouths seem to move together in miraculous sync, enough so it gives me the confidence to move my hands up into Armin’s hair to which he pulls me down even closer towards him with his grasp of my jacket.

In hindsight this whole situation is probably rather quick to the mark, but Armin isn’t pulling away and I like the feeling, regardless of whether or not it’s an in-the-moment decision atop the freezing balcony. Just as I pull away for a second to gather my breath Armin has my bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a quick bite and-

“ _Fuck-_ “ I try stop myself from gasping, which seems a fruitless effort,  Armin grins before I find his lips back on mine and I’m sliding my tongue into his mouth-

“OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

The voice comes out of nowhere and Armin and I retract all forms of physical context in one fellow swoop to find-

“CONNE?!”  

“NOT YOU TOO! E-EVERYONE- IN THIS DAMN CITY IS GETTING S-SOME WHILE I’M HERE HAVING THE WORST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!” The boy practically squawks through fits of teary hiccups, pacing a little in a circle before trudging his way over to one of the chairs and twirling a cheese cracker between his fingers. "WHERE ARE MIKASA AND ANNIE?"

“D-Dude!” I stammer, ignoring his question and taking a few more steps away from Armin and uselessly rubbing the redness from my face before restricting my hands to my sides.

He saw me- he, he fucking saw us making out whatdoIsay?

“What?” He sniffs, breaking the cracker between his hands before letting his face fall onto the table in defeat. I can’t form a wordy reply and instead result to flaying my aims towards him madly, because ‘excuse me, I don’t remember inviting you for a sexy Latin dancing, flirty kissing session ’- and also what in God’s name is the matter?

“Connie what happened?” Armin is first to ask the sensible, and in fact, the most sympathetic question. I on the other hand, am too busy trying to figure how the fuck I’m supposed to pretend that he never saw any of that-

Walking over, Armin extends his arm to Connie’s upper back, rubbing soothingly until the guy plucks up the emotional capability of lifting his head to face the both of us. Seems Armin is pretty gifted at getting people to come out of there shells.

“S-she, Sasha broke up with me.” Connie mumbles through his quivering lips before rubbing his hands across his face in an attempt to compose himself.

Fuck, I never knew it was this bad. I mean sure, there was some tensions there but, to break up over it- god I never saw it coming. This can’t be the end of the road surly?

“Connie, I’m… so sorry- dude you want us to talk to her or-“ I start, crouching down in front of him but he is quick to cut me off,

“No! Sorry… I mean, this is my fault ‘aint it? I’m too stupid for her.”

“Come on man don’t say that…”

“But it’s true! I ‘frustrate’ her apparently!” His voice rises, causing Armin to bring his other arm up to his back too, rubbing at the shoulders and looking over to me with a face that can only mean ‘come on, he’s your friend’. “W-we, we’ll never go on a date again… its over. We can never go to 16Handles again… and mix super-fruit and pistachio together- even though everyone thinks it looks disgusting, it was o-our thing.”

Wait, hang on-

“Connie what’s Sasha’s favourite colour?” I ask quickly, standing up and bringing my hand to my chin.

Maybe, maybe this could work.

“Wha-“ He looks puzzled, his eyebrows sown together and his nose curled up “um, she really likes that pink colour, the one that comes between the clouds when the suns going down.”

“What’s her favourite band?”

“New Found Glory, obviously.”

“And her favourite Christmas song?”

“The Mariah Carey one. It reminds her of baking gingerbread with her grandma on Christmas Eve.”

“Well Connie I think you’ve got your answer.” Armin pats his back and smiles up at me, positive and precious.

“To what?”

“That you’re not stupid, stupid.” I laugh, pulling him up from the chair, “Connie you obviously pay so much attention to all the little things about Sasha- you most definitely are not an idiot.”

“Y-yeah?” His eyes widen a little in glittery hope, but quickly his features fall again and he looks down towards his shoes “What good is it gonna do though? I’ve lost her…”

“Connie- I _promise_ I will help you get her back, okay?” I clutch hold of his shoulders, bore deep into his eyes until he gets the message, no way is he going to give up so easily.

“…Okay” He whispers at first, unsure in himself whether or not the effort will be worth it, but soon enough the look in his face shifts, it becomes more determined and hopeful because yes, of course it is- it’s Sasha after all “Yeah okay!” He says louder this time, and his lips begin to curl up into a driven grin.

“Great-“ I sigh, pulling myself up from his shoulders “now Connie, can I ask a favour of you?”

“Yeah sure, what is it?”

“Could you- could you not mention _this_ to anyone? Especially Eren.”

“Mention what?”

“You know! _This_!” I flay my hands between Armin and myself, who I notice is struggling to hold in his satisfactory laughter.

“Oh, okay.”

Is that it?

That’s it are you fucking kidding me? He walks in on his friend with his tongue down in another guy’s mouth and ‘okay’ is all he has to say?

“Is… is that it? ‘Okay’?” At this point I feel more offended by the fact he doesn’t seem interested, never mind if he’s bothered or not, which is ridiculous in regards to my previous dilemmas- but come on! “Aren't you the least bit, I dunno, _shocked_?”

Connie pauses a moment, his head twisting around to look at the both of us. I can’t exactly read what he’s thinking; he’s a pretty out-of-the-box character most of the time, his head is probably on a different planet all together.

“Not really. I mean I don’t blame you; if my heart wasn’t already taken then I’d steal this cutie from you in a flash!” He smirks before turning back to Armin who seems to be finding the whole ordeal nothing but pure golden entertainment, and in retaliation gives Connie a quick wink before biting his lip and looking back up to me devilishly.

Unbelievable. 


	15. Act 1: Sasha / Annie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha's grandma Dotty is officially my new favorite oc, I hope you like her foxy-sass too! Also Annie tells shit like it is, no need for sugar coating when it comes to her, and she may be right... perhaps the Halloween open-mic night will be very eventful...
> 
> Thank you, hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Music reference- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmp-xmguqh4

**Sasha**

 

“Sasha! Be a dear and bring my embroidery kit up from the kitchen would you?”

“Sure think Gammy!” In hindsight Grandma Dotty is perfectly able to move the five-feet from the comfort of her bed to the top of the landing, down the winding staircase and into the kitchen at the end of the hall to collect her things. But she’s old and cute and buys me salt-water taffy if I impose enough good-will on her in any given month, so I don’t mind the effort.

 

Granny or ‘Gammy’ as I regally dubbed her when I was seven and lacking both my front teeth, has lived in my house for as long as I can remember. Her husband, my dad’s father, died about seventeen years ago from lung cancer and Gammy couldn’t afford the ridiculous rent of living on her own in Long Island and so moved into our town house in the Upper-East Side with me and my mom and pops and we’ve been happy as Larry ever since. My parents are away a lot of the time with work, they both have this little company selling holiday homes in Jamaica and the Canary Islands to retiring rich-fucks so are constantly travelling. Growing up that meant Gammy looked after me a lot, taking the subway with me to school on a morning, coming back to collect me at the end of the day, cooking dinner, taking me to dance classes- although now in her older age the roles seem to have somewhat reversed in nature. Gammy is quite a social animal in truth, and so it’s become my job to take her to her Saturday morning ‘Bingo Bananza’ with her pals Arnold and Kat a few blocks over. Happy penance for being her only grandchild I guess, the Blouse family is a small line- but gleeful and close-nit all the same.

 

Collecting her a glass of water for extra measure, I make my way up the wooden staircase, woven basket filled with a multitude of coloured threads, along with countless needles and referencing pictures of little country-bumpkin cottages surrounded by emerald frog ponds and crab-apple trees under my arm; it all looks very comforting and somewhat nostalgic in nature.

“Thank you sweetie” Granny chirps, her voice is sweet like ripe fruit, there is a little audible croak emulating from the back of her throat, but that in turn is masked by her large and gummy smile as I pass her over the basket and sit beside her on the bed, “you know, I’ve not seen your boy Colin around here for a few days now.”

“It’s Connie.” I sigh, looking away quickly. In retrospect is a peculiar thing for her to say really, since she’s never gotten his name wrong before in the past.

“I know. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about him completely.” She smirks in such a fox-like manor, it’s as if her eyes and upturned lips are telling me what I should clearly already know: that it is useless effort hiding anything from Grandma Dotty.

“Don’t worry yourself over it Gammy, it’s nothing.” I lie, forcing myself to crack a thin smile in a desperate attempt for her to drop the subject.

 

It’s been just under a week since I last spoke to Connie at dinner. He didn’t turn up to any lessons this week, which didn’t come as much of a surprise to me.

I’m such a bitch; a stupid one at that.

What… _what_ on earth was I thinking getting so angry at him like that for? I don’t think he’s stupid, I’ve never thought that. I was just… just _mad_ , and frustrated over that one silly thing, how was that justification for treating him the way I did?

But how am I supposed to make this up to him now? I can’t exactly act like nothing happened; I essentially broke up with him for god’s sake! But, apologising… well that’s not something I’ve figured out how to articulate just yet.

Who’s to say he will accept me even if I do?

 

“I’m not the one worrying Sasha. You on the other hand- honey you’re shaking like a dashboard hula-dancer in Hurricane Katrina.”

Shit, I guess I am.

“Well… it’s all my fault so I guess there’s nothing to be done except try and apologize.”

“That’s my superstar. Don’t threat my love; it’ll make your hair turn grey. I know everything will work out okay in the end.”

“How can you possibly know that?” I half-laugh letting Granny take my hand between her two much older and chillier ones.

“Because you are _special_.” She whispers into my hand before kissing it lightly and running at the skin over my knuckles soothingly.

I understand her words are meant to make me at least a little bit happier, and in some ways they do. However they also give me the solid reminder that I’m spoilt rotten and all her forms of flattery are nothing more than an intense reminder of how much of a screw-up I am, a big messy screw-up who doesn’t deserve to be called a ‘love’ or a ‘superstar’- more like a trigger-happy break-up asshat who nothing but a stern telling-off and lifetime of romantic misfortune.

“Gammy you would be nice to me even if I killed a man.”

“That is true. But only because I know you’d feel bad about doing it.” She smiles, pulling me into a small hug.

“Ha, glad to know I’m not everyone’s worst enemy I guess.” I sigh into her shoulder; the smell of home is all I can describe her with. Like; clean cotton sheets, cinnamon sticks, potpourri, that kind of thing. “Alright what’re you making today?” I observe, watching her remove a half-decorated white muslin cloth.

“Well I was thinking of a little beach hut, me and your grandfather used to own one out on Coney Island for your father to keep his water sports gear. But this is starting to look rather more like a shitty excuse for a tool shed.” I can help but bust into fits of laughter at her rather surprising choice of words, quickly however I am interrupted by the overpowering ‘ping pong’ of doorbell. Grandma looks over to me in response and I clamber up from the bed in one motion.

“I’ll go get it.” I smile, making my way out the door.

“If it’s those Bible preaching bandits again tell them to hit the road!” And my smile at her brash wording remains as I jog down the spiral stairs and pull the door open-

“Hello!”

“Jean?”

“My name is Elder Price, and I would like to share with you the most amazing book!”

“What the hell?” I snort, leaning against the door frame.

He’s clad in a white shirt, black pants and matching tie. His hair swooped back likes he’s some sort of preppy posh guy with a bad case of the ‘daddy’s boy’. In his hand… a book… the book of- Mormon? _Really_?

“Hello! My name is Elder Grant,” Reiner swings his head around the side of my door with rapid speed, before gliding into position next to Jean and singing along, “It’s a book about America a long, long time ago!”

“Guys what is this?”

“It has, so many awesome parts-“ Jean continues, ignoring me completely; a grossly obnoxious smile plastered across his face, “You simply won’t believe how much this book will change your life!”       

“Hello! My name is Elder Green; I would like to share with you this book of Jesus Christ!” Bertolt extends his head from the other side of the door, and this point I can’t help but roll my eyes at their ridiculous attempts at- well that I don’t quite understand yet.                 

Soon enough the three black-tied boys all step back out the door and encourage me forward a few steps out into the chilly mid-morning air, to which I find myself pulling my cardigan further over my shoulders.

Upon inspection- one, two, four, more boys- my friends- all dressed in the same fashion, step out from every crack and crevasses between cars and side-streets up in a large conglomerate outside my front door, only adding to the surreal experience, as if this is some sort of musical alien invasion of some kind.

Jean, Reiner, Bertolt, Armin, Thomas, Samuel, Franz- everyone bar Eren it seems, singing and chirping in overly-happy unison, flaring their mini religious texts out towards me and up to the Lord our saviour in the sky, and waving their free hands and me in greeting. 

“Hello!”

“Hi! My name is-“

“Jesus Christ-“

“You have a lovely home!”

All of them, bobbing up and down in comedic unison, they all look like they’ve had about five botox injections each with the way their mouths are split open into such fantastic grins and I find myself laughing hysterically at their attempt at what I can now only presume to be an ode to cheering me up after the break-up. I do have a bit of a secret love for The Book of Mormon after all.

Hang on, but… I only told Connie about that-

“Bonjour!”

“Hola!”

By this point I can spy a few of my neighbors peering off their balconies and the people on the sidewalks exercising their dogs, stopping in their tracks in the middle of the street to observe the outlandish amateur performance.

“Ni hao!”

“Me llamo Elder White!”

“Are these your kids?”

“This book gives you the secret to eternal life!”

“Sasha what is all that racket?” I hear Gammy call from above, and twisting around I spot her head hanging curiously out the upstairs window, “I told you to tell those Mormons to go away!”

Connie… this, this wasn’t his idea what it?

“You simply won’t believe how much this book will change your life!”

I mean surly not, he won’t want anything to do with me.

“This book will change your life!” They all sing in unison like some sort of happy-go-lucky boy’s choir.

“This book will change you life!” They repeat over and over again, grins never faltering. All before they part like the red sea and stepping- or rather running out from between them is- _Connie_?

“HELLO WOULD YOU LIKE TO CHANGE RELIGIONS? I HAVE A FREE BOOK WRITTEN BY JESUS!” He squawks- out-of-pitch and comically loud- causing one or two of the dog-walkers in the street to cringe while I stand, mouth-agape and amazed by his presence.

What… what is he doing here?

Why would he even want to look at me again after what I did?

The boys cut their performance short, Connie instead collecting a few things in his hands from Franz and Thomas before jogging up the little strip of pavement towards my front door.

“I-“ He pants for breath, which is pretty funny given his lack of involvement except from virtually bursting his voice-box and wakening up the entirety of the nocturnal half of the Upper-East Side. Not that I can laugh at his gasping however, instead glancing guiltily down at his smaller form, looking up rather worriedly at mine, “I know I’m not very smart.”

“Connie-“ I try and intercept him, but he continues over the top of me anyway,

“And I know I screw up sometimes-“ and now he stands up straight, extending his full arms out to me, and glancing down I finally begin to understand what he’s doing, “but I know your favourite flowers are Delilahs. You- uh, you think the colours all blend together… in the same way milk does when you pour it into coffee.” He hands me over the pink bouquet, smiling small, but his body still trembling.

Silently I accept the flowers into my hands, but can do nothing but continue to stare at him wide-eyed and expecting him to explain what’s going on.

“I know your favourite sweets are those Willy Wonka Nerds, and that you like to separate them by colour and eat one of each at a time because you think it makes them taste better.” He continues on and on, gradually passing over sentimental items until my arms are almost full, and by this point I can feel myself welling up at his effort- I, I was so wrong to think he didn’t care.

“This is-“

“I know your favourite TV show is Keeping Up with the Kardashians… and I’ll continue to watch every episode with you even though I fucking hate it” and I can’t help myself but giggle through the tears beginning to double over my cheeks, clutching hold of the contents in my hands a little bit tighter, “and… I know for Christmas all you really want are those little glow stars that stick to your ceiling- so you can actually see the stars in this cloudy city. I was going to get them for you, so we could look at them together… If you would still let me I mean.”

My breathe catches in my throat and I want desperately to nod my head or say ‘ _yes_ ’, ‘yes you can that is all I ever want’… but my body remains glued to the ground and my lips zipped shut and all I can do it watch his mouth move and his hands stretch out pleadingly, like I’m the one worth chasing after.

“Sasha I may not know a lot of things. I don’t know the names of all the presidential candidates… or when our next homework assignment is due… and I have no fucking idea what a mortgage is to be honest- Reiner sorts all that stuff out- but, but what I _do_ know is that I am madly and deeply in love with you… and that doesn’t require an ounce of thought for me to figure it out. Please give me another chance.”

At this point I can’t stop myself from letting out what is possibly the ugliest and most unattractive sob to ever exist, and take the few steps forward to fall fully-handed and hard into his chest, and his arms wrap around me in an instant.

“I- I’m sorryforsayingallthosethingsIdidaboutyou!” I stammer out, nuzzling my face into his neck and I feel him do the same, “I’m so s-sorry! You don’t frustrate me you never frustrate me!”

“I’m sorry too for not listening, okay?” He gasps out into my skin, pulling me in even tighter.

“Okay!” I cry as I squeeze my eyes shut, the noise of Jean and his Mormon company- who had almost escaped my mind completely- cheering and hollering with enough volume it drowns out my shaky breathing.

“Well thank God for that!” I hear Gammy shout from the window above, and both Connie and I fall into fits of dubious laughter, pulling apart only long enough that I can kiss him with enough urgency it makes him fall back just a little.

“I- mff- love you.”

“I love you too” He grins against my lips before kissing me again, “mmm- oh I also- know, you’re favourite musical is The Book of Mormon- mfh, but I think that’s already kind of been established.”

 

 

 

**Annie**

 

“Jesus Mikasa! Are you trying to take my fucking head off?” I yell, slamming the girl’s leg back down against the padded gym floor. Ever since she and Eren have been on their little ‘break’ or whatever fake-ass cop-out of a break-up it is, she’s been nothing but the next god-damn WWE wrestler at self-defence class. These training sessions are meant to be for protection from street thugs and sleazy gropers, not so she can use me as her own personal punching bag!

“Haa- sorry…” She pants, leaning down, her hands on her knees and catching her breath before stretching back up and whipping the sweat off her brow.

“Yeah well next time just give me a little heads-up before you go all Hulk Hogan on my ass.” I sigh, adjusting my training bra before bringing my wrapped hands back up in front of my face, ready to block her next swing.

“It’s just-“ She starts, swinging her left hand which I defect and attempt the strike at her thigh before she aborts to her left.

“I know ‘pepped-up anger’, but can we please get over it already? Jeager-Bomb-Bullshit is really _not_ worth all the hassle.”

 

Mikasa was a complete mess that night, Sambuka, heavy-metal mosh pits, and a few too many surfers on acid- that sort of a mess. She’d refused to cry a single tear which seemed rather admirable, but then again she kept on yelling out ‘fucking idiot’ into the street on the walk of shame back home, and I’m still not sure as to whether or not she was talking about Eren or herself. We’d arrived back home earlier than originally planned, I’d decided to pull out the little maternal instincts I held deep in the pits of my being in order to drag Mikasa back to the apartment when her hair was sweat-ridden and stuck down against her face and she couldn’t tell her lefts from her rights.

It didn’t appear as though we’d successfully cock-blocked Jean’s attempts of getting into Armin’s pants however; Connie seemed to have that one covered. And it was easy enough to manoeuvre Mikasa into her bedroom when those three were all passed-out on the couch in the middle of Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Take-Away noodles. 

 

“Stop it, it’s not that simple. And he’s still your friend.” She sighs, walking off the training mat and rummaging through her bag for her water bottle.

“Yeah he is, but you are my friend _and_ you pay half the rent” I follow her off the mat, grabbing my towel and rubbing it across my reddened face, “You also didn’t accuse him of sleeping with another member of the clandestine-dilemma squad that we seem to be congealed within.”

 

The bizarre reality is that most would probably think I have more reason to relate to Eren than I do Mikasa. We seem to be the male and female counterpart of one-another, in terms of sarcastic aggression that is. Other than that however, we are pretty polar-opposite- I dislike greatly his false-sense of individuality, and the fact he finds a great deal of self-pride in ignoring the affections of his Godparents out of arrogance and refusal to be mundanely happy.

It’s like he thinks being content with his life is something to be frowned upon, and as much as Mikasa and Mr Smith and Jean and everyone else in his life can try to make him feel satisfied and peaceful in his surroundings, it only advances the craving he has for his own destruction.

It’s an unknowing urge I think, no one in their right mind would want to purposefully destroy everything that makes them happy, and Eren is far from being out of his head. He’s just… magnetized towards conflict, in a way the rest of us all try to avoid it.

And I find _that_ all too bothersome to be around.

I think that’s why I side with Mikasa on this one, I’m struggling to sympathize with the guy who only started this whole argument because he subconsciously despises when there isn’t one.

That’s not to say I hold any sort of bad grudges towards Eren however; I know he’s a good person, really- I just want him to accept that, and stop expecting some sort of brutal punishment every time he smiles.

 

“Connie and Sasha figured out all their problems though?” Mikasa frowns at my accusation; she always does seem to deconstruct my constant interpretations of dire events ready to unfold.

It’s like I have a sixth-sense about smelling bullshit and tension in the air. Either that or I’m not fucking stupid.

“Yeah, but soon enough it’ll be one of the others just you wait- maybe Jean and Windsor will have their first real couples argument!” I raise my eyebrows jokingly over the muzzle of the towel.

“They went on one date, they’re not a couple.” Mikasa smirks, passing me over her bottle for a drink.

“They want to be- Jean practically turns to cookie mixture whenever Armin is around!”

“I still need to apologize for being so rude to both of them the other night…”

“I’m sure they’re not that fragile, they know how tough that night was for you” I pass the bottle back before collecting my gym bag up from the ground, “You ready to go?”

“Didn’t stop you from selling them our apartment for the evening.” Mikasa huffs, collecting her own bag and following me into the gym changing room before throwing her things down and changing.

“Oh come on you were dying for Jean to have his first proper guy-date too!” I coo into her face, before rummaging for my shampoo and soap.

“They ate our Lunchables!”

“And Jean probably ate ass while we drank Tequila shots- it was a win-win for everybody!” I wave off, making my way towards the shower room, “What, ya not wanting to get a wash?”

“Well that wasn’t exactly a huge work-out, and Armin’s too nice to tell me if I have a bad case B.O.”

“ ’Not a huge work-out’? Wow Mikasa Ackerman- you truly a work of unprecedented standards!”

 

*

 

“Say Windsor, is Jean good at giving blowjobs?” I smirk, blowing bubbles into my tall milkshake glass and spinning from left to right on the bar stool I occupy. Despite the scarf-worthy air outside, I had chosen to brave a beautifully classic strawberry shake from OddFellows while Mikasa and Armin opted for a –perhaps more sensible- coffee-related option.

“Annie!” Mikasa scoffs around her mug, shooting me a sharp glare before spinning back on her own chair to apologize on my behalf. In truth she had told me only this morning to watch my tongue around the guy. He’s a year younger, and while that doesn’t exactly account for much in my own personal opinion; it does turn Mikasa into a gushing, overly-attentive mother rather than an obscurely-wise teenage girl.

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP! NOTHING HAPPENED!” Armin laughs, covering his reddening face with his hands. See Mikasa, he’s not offended, more so amused by my whimsical attempts at convocation starters.

“He looks like he’d be pretty good at it that’s all; he’s got that massive mouth and everything. No wonder he hardly ever shuts up.”  

It seems Jean is late, not that I’m exactly sure why he felt the need to invite himself out for coffee with us anyway, probably a lazy excuse to see Armin, or perhaps apologize to Mikasa for something which is hardly he own fault to begin with. Either way, both options seem agonizingly mundane to sit through.

“Like I said- nothing happened. Connie came in-“

“Ah! So what you are saying is, if Connie hadn’t have come in and interrupted your little Uma Thurman make-out session then you would have officially passed bodily fluids with an American citizen? Speak now or forever hold your peace as the accused could approach at any given moment!”

“EWEWEW STOP!” Armin raises his hands in front of his face and scrunches his eyes shut while Mikasa proceeds to thrust her fingers into her ears and lets out a few drawn-out ‘la la la’s.

“Annie as much as it disturbs me to talk in such great detail about Jean’s sex life- no offence Armin- I can’t help but be curious as to why _you_ seem to care so much?” Mikasa flickers open her eyes and glances at me daringly, a small smirk playing on her own lips which is actually rather relieving to whiteness after the past few days of dealing with her temperamental, Eren-centred mood swings.

“I guess I must have a thing for horses?”

“Why does everybody say that? He doesn’t look like a horse!” Armin laughs, shaking his head.

“God knows, it just seems to have stuck. I normally prefer to go down a less classical route when forming my insults: a B-rate celebrity or obscure vegetable dish usually fits the bill, but after that blowjob talk my head is just _buzzing_ with horse-related sexual innuendos!”

“And I hope to hear none of them!” I hear Jean striding up behind the three of us before dropping down his college bag and hopping onto the free bar stool next to Armin, “Hey you.” He whispers shyly, which Armin returns with just as much nauseating lovey-dovey-ness.

For a moment it almost looks as he’s going to dip in to give Armin a kiss, but instead seems to retreat back into a friendly smile- as if he’s somewhat only just realised he’s in public, and with us, like he’s still dispensed in his idiotic state of disbelief that we do in fact ALL KNOW HE IS NOT STRIGHT- before quickly opening up a drinks menu off the counter and darting his head inside.

“Hey Jean, Armin was just telling us about the details of your little dinner-date, I hope _my_ apartment was to your standards.”

“Ah… yes- thanks. Um-“ He stammers awkwardly, twiddling the menu between his fingers absent-mindedly, his legs bouncing up and down under the counter, before turning to Mikasa in an attempt to draw the convocation topic away from himself, “Hey Mikasa-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She replies so flatly it makes all three of us retract a little in our seats. Jean licks at his dry lips before opening his mouth again, but Mikasa defuses him quickly by continuing, “Jean we are not talking about it. I’m not mad it you, if that’s what you are wondering. I just don’t want to talk about Eren right now.”

“But… we’re cool?”

“Yeah, we’re cool” She lifts up her fist for him to bump subtly before returning her hands to the warmth of her coffee mug, “I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you both the other night- I just wasn’t in the right place.”

“We get it, its fine.” Armin smiles kindly, placing his hand on Mikasa’s arm.

 

Well that’s annoying.

Because I for one _do_ want to talk about Eren.

I want to talk about why he thinks Mikasa and Jean have something going on. I want to talk about why he’s not made a single effort to rekindle his friendship with Armin since he moved to New York. I want to talk about why no one seems to want to talk about it- because I know for a fact the longer people avoid communicating with one another, than the more likely things are to go A-wall.

Have they learnt nothing from Sasha and Connie’s mistake?

And those two are the lucky ones; I doubt a fucking Josh Gad song is enough to fix all the problems Eren has going on…

Well, it’s not exactly my place to start stirring the pot of teenage-angst and relationship-woes. I’m the over-looking bystander in all of this; like the Prime Directive of M.R.S Academy and it’s populous.

I’m untouchable.                                                                                                                                     

 

“Oh that reminds me, are you guys coming to the Halloween open-mic night at Hannes bar?” Jean pipes up, blowing at the scalding top of his own fresh cup of coffee.

“‘ _Hannes_ ’, as in ‘he who must not be named’ s old workplace?” I laugh, picking at my nail-polish, “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Well it’s not like Eren works there anymore- can you really see him showing up?”

“I suppose we could go…” Mikasa says slowly, glancing down in contemplation, “Are you going to sing?”

 _Really_? Even she’s thinking of going?

“Nah, 104th Element is shelved for the time being. But I think Reiner and Connie are planning something with Sasha and Ymir; looks like a sing-off between the girls again.”

“I thought that your friend Ymir did theatre?” Armin asks confused, looking between the three of us.

“She does, but Sasha has a killer voice too surprisingly, so the both of them balance one-another out when they’re singing pop songs.”

“Sounds fun, but do we have to dress-up?” Armin screws his face up in discomfort. I knew there was a reason I liked this guy.

“Nope- looks like it’s going to be zombie themed, so ripped clothes and fake-blood looks promising enough.”

“Oh thank god” Both Armin and I sigh in unison, before he grabs his bag from under his feet and stands, “Now sorry to leave early but I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late to class, thanks for asking me out for coffee.”

“Oh- you want me to walk you there?” Jean clambers up like a deer on ice and I can’t help but let out a short snort before Mikasa kicks my shin.

“You just bought a coffee” Armin giggles, gently pushing Jean back down onto the bar stool and making a few steps away towards the exit, “I’ll pop round your room tonight, we can figure out outfits if you like?”

‘Outfits’, so that’s that people call it these days.

“Oh-okay. Um-“ Jean stammers, standing and catching up, his actions making both Mikasa and myself eye him curiously which only makes his face redden to a sickening degree, “-Bye.” He mutters before quickly dropping his head to kiss Armin sharply at the very corner where his mouth meets his cheek, leaving the blond dumbfounded and grinning, frozen on the spot.

My instantaneous reaction is to grasp hold of Mikasa’s coat excitedly, because holy shit our local Franco brother is stepping up! Mikasa shrugs me off in an irritated fashion and spins me round in my chair to leave the both of them alone and by the time I hear the bell chime on the door and Armin leave, Jean slowly makes his way back to his chair and darts his eyes away from the two of us.

Silently, he picks back up his cup of coffee and, swirling the content around in peculiar concentration, finally breaks the silence between the three of us,

 “Annie you in? For open-mic night I mean.”

“Oh yeah,” I smirk, biting teasingly at the straw sticking out my glass, “I’m sure it will be _very_ eventful.”


	16. Act 1: Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh... well this one is a bit of a game changer...  
> I've been excited about writing this chapter since starting the fic, I guess you could call it the dramatic end of the First Act- I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all your kind comments they really make my day! <3
> 
> Well no matter what happens below, at least you can imagine the happy fantastic foursome that is Jean, Armin, Mikasa and Annie all dancing like dorks to this- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JZ4pnNtyxQ
> 
> Annie did say this open-mic night sounded like a bad idea... ;)

**Jean**

 

I’m going to vomit, and I don’t mean with excitement.

Ian said, he said he would get in touch with me by the end of the month and then I would know if I had the deal or not and now it’s the 31st and still nothing. That’s it. I’m done for.

All that hard work and for what? Keeping secrets from the guys, running around at God-knows-what time in the morning for interviews and recording sessions and now I’ve been kicked to the curb like some sort of dried-up waste.

I really thought he liked me, that I was good enough to actually get a shot at this.

 

“Lighten up would you? We’re going to a party, all that frowning is making the mood depressing as fuck.” Mikasa sighs, shoving her chilly hands under her arms and speeding up her step along the pavement closer towards the red glowing beacon of Hannes bar. “We’re already late as it is.”

“Not my fault almost every store in the city ran out of fake blood,” I pout, catching up to her, “this cheep crap is never going to come out my hair!”

“And is that why you are sulking so much? It was your idea to come to this- I thought you’d be excited to see Armin.”

“I am! It’s just-“ I stop still a few meters short of the entrance and Mikasa copies, the blaring sound of gleeful yelling and The Weeknd echoing out the doors, “I thought he would have called me by now… it just feels like everything was all for nothing.”

“You know, if that talent scout hadn’t have given you an interview in the first place; then you wouldn’t have had a reason to get it in the shower so early. You might not have ever met Armin. It’s all like some sort of Butterfly Effect; it might not have been what you were expecting, but it seems to be making you happy all the same. So I wouldn’t exactly say it was _all_ for nothing.”

Wow, I never thought about it that way- huh, figures.

“Yeah, I guess so…” I bite my lip, grinning. Quickly however my joy turns to guilt upon noticing Mikasa’s seldom face. God I’m such a jerk, “Well no I mean I’ve still totally wrecked your relationship. Fuck, I should have just told Eren and the guys from the start what I was doing, then he wouldn’t have gone and gotten all- all jealous and shit!”

Mikasa tightens her arms around her body and draws out a long breathe, so icy I can just see the dragon-like mist leaving her mouth as she taps her heel against the sidewalk in contemplation before opening her mouth again-

“Yeah you could have done, it would have made things so much easier for all the rest of us.” She scowls back up to me, but soon enough her face softens and she steps a little closer, “Never mind, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up over it. Stop with the guilt-tripping; if Eren and I didn’t fall out over this, than I’m sure it would have come round some other way…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yeah I do; he was too quick-to-the-mark, I’m a stone-cold bitch, sounds to me like a recipe for disaster. Now come on I’m fucking freezing in this dress and I want a drink, you're paying!” Her bluntness instantly infers an end to that convocation, so I dare not press her further and instead carry on down the path up to the entrance. A few drunk and disorderly hover around the doors, their mouths either attached to their drinks or to the mouths of other party goers; Mikasa and I slide our way through them and are instantly overcome with the strong strobes of light, thudding base from the DJ and the warm and sleazy scent of booze.

 

Hannes bar isn’t exactly a dive, it has a nice aromatic sense about it- decorated in rich looking greens and reds, and the dim lighting always makes the beer look a certain kind of appealing- although it does have a sort of dangerously addictive energy which makes you want to loose your mind in alcohol with no regrets until the hangover the next morning. Decked in macabre wall hangings, skeletons, smoke machines and glowing pumpkins the place definitely fits the part of a classic Halloween party.

I was always pretty jealous of Eren when he worked here; it would be pretty solid having a boss who thinks the legal drinking age was a load of bullshit. Yeah Hannes is a pretty sound guy, will let you get a drink if you have an I.D., even if it is fake- as far as he ‘knows’ we’re all innocent twenty-one year olds.

Damn we really are late, looks live everyone here is already sucked into their own form of intoxication: Thomas and Samuel nose-deep in an intense game of pool, Franz with his girlfriend Hannah under his arm both red-faced and laughing uncontrollably, and it looks like Sasha and Connie have already pulled a rather reluctant looking Bertolt onto the dance floor… now to find Armin.

I make my way across the dance floor, Mikasa in toe- it’s safe to say everyone got the ‘zombie’ memo that’s for sure, ripped and minimalist clothing everywhere, faces decorated with blood, scars and smoggy contact-lenses, I hardly feel left out in my blood-splattered white shirt and ripped jeans. I spot Reiner perched down, his chair facing outwards to the hysterical display that is Sasha and Connie attempting to coax Bertolt into a rendition of ‘Big Fish, Little Fish, Cardboard Box’ and I continue towards him.

“Hey you made it!” Reiner bellows, lifting his hand up as we make our way up to the seats beside him, “Want a drink?”

“Its okay buddy I got it- where’s Armin? Coors and a Vodka Redbull please.” I flash my I.D. towards the bartender who glances minimally before taking my cash and planting the drinks in front of Mikasa and myself.

“Ah you mean that little blond guy in your dorm? Uh, last I saw of him he was headed for the dance floor with Annie.”

“Oh God, I hope he knows how wild she can get, I still think he sees her as a bit of a calm and collected mother figure.” I snort, bringing the bottle up to my lips; at least it’s not Ymir… she will have a field-day initiating him that’s for sure, although I do think Armin is a bit too wise for any of her gimmicks.

“That’s a pretty neat scar you got going on there.” Mikasa comments, pointing her face towards the red and purple make-up spanning down Reiner’s eyebrow.

“Oh yeah Historia’s artistic eye seems to go well past fashion design that’s for sure- you should check out the fake bite-mark Ymir has going for her!”

“JEAN!”

What?

“JEAN KRISTEIN I HAVE A PRESENT FOR YOU!” I hear Annie’s voice cackling from across the bar, the unusual volume of her voice making my head retract up in an instant.

Oh boy.

Annie, swaying left to right, her heels slapping loudly against the floor with every wobbly step she takes, the balancing of Armin under her arm making it even harder for her to manoeuvre her way over.

“WINDSOR IS A COMPLETE LIGHT-WEIGHT, CHECK IT OUT!” She continues her march all the way over to us, laughing heavily as she tosses Armin against me upon arrival, my arms instantly wrapping around his smaller frame in order to hold the both of us.

“ _Heyy Jean_ , it’s you!” Armin coos, his mouth split into a massively goofy grin before his face falls down against my chest.

“Yeah its me” I sigh, I knew Annie would be a bad influence I just knew it, “say Armin have you ever had this much alcohol before?” I question lifting his head up to make sure the blood pooling from the corner of his face is- yep its make-up thank god.

“ _Ahaha, nooo_!” He giggles, gasping hold of my T-shirt and in truth it takes all my courage to keep my distance in front of Reiner and everyone else surrounding the bar, “Jean, Annie says you _like_ me!”

“Aha cute- Annie what exactly did you give him?” I pull myself up from the chair, Armin still coddled inside my chest which both girls- and Reiner at this point- seem to find ever so amusing.

“Just a couple of shots, who do you take me for? Oh… yeah, and then a triple vodka and coke…”

 “Jesus, I’m taking him outside for some fresh air- Can I get a glass of water? Thanks.” I collect the glass from the bartender and salute the guys off before waddling across the dance floor and towards the exit with Armin clinging onto my shirt.

It’s a challenge, but we finally make it out into the open, the coolness of the air must be enough to somewhat bring Armin down from his liquor-heightened state of mind. He pulls himself up off of me and walks the few steps forward towards the wall of the bar, out of the way of others outside, and slides down until he’s sat on the pavement.

“The floor? Well okay” I sigh, bringing myself down next to him and pass him the glass over, “here drink this. Have you thrown up?”

He shakes his head, swallowing a large mouthful from the glass before pulling it down on the floor between us.

“Annie says you like me- like, _like_ me, she’s funny,” He repeats, slurring his words, his head falling back against the wall.

“Yeah hilarious.” I snort, shaking my head and draping my arms over my knees, observing the soft rise and fall of Armin’s chest through loose blue top. His hair is tied back again, like it was at the art gallery, he looks pretty hot like that, his neck on full display, his collar bone- fuck-

 “ _You’re staring_.” Armin hums and my eyes dart back up to spot is face even closer to my own, his nose almost touching mine.

“Pft, am not.” I turn my head quickly away before he has enough time to notice the redness in my face.

“Liar” He whispers, pulling his knees up to his chest, “Urgh, its cold.”

“I’m surprised you can even feel it in your state.” He is right though; it’s freaking freezing out here.

“I’m drunk Jean, not inept of reality.” He sasses, shifting the glass away and moving his body into mine so that I can bring my arm around him, a rather bleak attempt to warm him up but it does make my heart beat increase a hell of a lot more.

“Of course you would say something like that.” I murmur, dropping my head back against the wall and allowing my eyes to close, comfortable in the presence of only the distant thumping of music and the soft breathe of Armin’s against my chest.

 

What is this?

I don’t think I’ve ever stopped myself long enough to contemplate the idea.

We met in a shower block, we were naked, it sounds romantic or kinky but the reality is it was entirely the opposite- I called him a psycho, he called me a pervert. Not a good start.

Then we have the art gallery. Now that, that was just weird- I mean I’m not a superstitious person in the slightest- but the complex idea of fate being in play that night for us both to be in the same place has hard to ignore, like that butterfly crap Mikasa was talking about. We walked back home together, bickering again until we reached some weird sort of mutual agreement the moment I lost myself it the complexity of his eyes, later I found to be somewhat symmetrical to the brilliance of his mind.

We hung out a couple of times after that, went out for coffee, walked to class together; the mundane, friendly things someone ought to do with a person before they even contemplate seeing their junk. But it would seem everything we do moves really _really_ fast in somewhat of a backwards fashion.

I asked him out on a date. We danced. We kissed.

I want more.

In fact I went for it the other day at the damn diner… I looked like such a dork just going and kissing him like that. I didn’t mean to get all flustered it was just that, well there were people around and I dunno, wanted to see if I could really do it… to see if I was ready-

 

“Hey Jean?” Armin’s voice pulls be back from my spacing thoughts, and I open my eyes to find his flushed pink face monitoring closely at my own.

“Yeah?” I reply, blinking few times and readjusting the two of us into a more comfortable sitting position.

“…You…. You look really beautiful.”

“HA!” Is all I can bring myself to muster, and in theory there is a strong likelihood that my response could be deemed offensive to his declaration at best… but come on, Beautiful? What’s that supposed to mean? “Man, you _are_ blind drunk…”

“I’m not. I mean it,” He says with enough affirmative-ness in his voice that part of me actually wants to believe him, that is if it were not for the lingering stench of tequila emulating from his clothing, “you’re like a painting or something.”

“Well, not as good as one of yours.” I point to the glass on the ground for him to get drinking, which he easily obliges.

His eyes continue to be unmoving from my own and at this point I’m beginning to wonder whether or not the playful glassiness shielding his eyes and daring upturn of his lips are more than just a mock of drunken flirtation after all. Because if he’s really trying to get my attention, to make me even more sexually frustrated then I already am with his body pressed hard against my own, then it’s damn-well working.

“You’re quiet. What are you thinking?” Armin mumbles around the glass before taking a second drink.

“Well,” I dare to lift my hand and reach out to trace the line of fake-blood running down the side of his forehead before letting my hand fall back down against my lap, “I’m thinking that I _really_ want to kiss you right now… but I’m not exactly prepared to take advantage of a drunken person like yourself.”

“Oh,” Armin raises his eyebrows sarcastically and places the glass back down on the ground before twisting his body to face me head-on, “Well what if I said that I was perfectly sober enough to consent to something like that?”

“I suppose then I would have to reanalyze and contemplate whether or not you are telling the truth or just-“

“Jean,” He interrupts me, bringing both his hands up and placing them on each of my shoulders, holding me back to the wall.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay-“ Armin is the one to kiss me this time. It’s a completely different sensation all together, perhaps partly due to the overpowering taste of liquor on his lips, or maybe because his hot breathe teasing against my mouth each time he pulls away just enough to look at me is the only notable warmth amongst the frosty night breeze.

He’s hot, especially when he’s taking charge, having me move my body forward with every twist and lean he exhibits, desperate to keep in contact. This true however, he doesn’t dispute when my eagerness has me sliding a hand round the back of his neck in order to pull him in even rougher, my tongue now gracing against his bottom lip before sliding in against his own.

Only when Armin pulls away, his open mouth gasping for air against my cheek do I notice his tight clutch of my shirt, the display driving me mad enough to start kissing up along his jaw. Armin sighs out, it’s blissful and all kinds of both erotic and comforting at the same time, louder still when my mouth brushes over the skin where his neck meets his jaw. I move my lips up tentatively, upwards towards his ear, kissing softly before sucking lightly at the lobe making Armin breath out heavily from his mouth.

“We,” I whisper teasingly into his ear, frankly I was unaware I possessed the flirtatious capability to have someone as cute as Armin apparently melting like putty in my hands- even if he is probably a bit out of his head on drink- it fills me with some pleasurable new-found confidence unlike any other my egotistical and self-righteous attitude has ever experienced, “should get back inside… before anyone comes looking for us.”

“Mm, you’re such a tease.”

 

*

 

It’s only about an hour after the two of us make it back inside that Armin has sobered up enough to a giddy and energetic degree which not only matches my own after a couple of beers, but also everyone else’s in the room who all pool in around us- dancing wildly about near the stage as each vocally proud teen and young adult graces the open-mic with their ranging talent.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna sing?” Armin cups his mouth, yelling at me over the thumping beat emulating from the amplifiers.

“I will if you do.” I laugh, to which he pulls an adorably disgusted face and shakes his head from side to side.

“Fat chance!”

“Yo Jean!” I hear a voice yell from behind me and spinning I find Mikasa and Annie striding their way across the dance floor, Ymir and her petite girlfriend Historia following behind attached by the hip.

“Oh wow for a second there I thought I was seeing double-Historia!” Ymir snorts, pointing between Armin and the playfully frowning blonde on her arm.

“Hi I’m Armin, Jean’s… friend.” Armin greats the two of them, his words hesitant as he shakes their hands, before glancing back up me apologetically as if he’s just dropped me into heaping pile of trouble. Frankly however all that processes within my own mind is the idea that he was contemplating calling me anything else in the first place.

 “ _Riiightt_.” Ymir grins, eyes darting between Armin and myself before pointing down to her date, “This is Historia, my ‘friend’.”

“You still singing with Sash?” Mikasa defuses knowingly, taking a sip from the straw out her drink.

“Next actually, Penn and Teller are just getting their shit together from round back.” I can only presume she means Reiner and Connie, and my assumptions are deemed correct as Bertolt makes his way over towards us all.

“I think you’re up Ymir.”

“Thanks Bertie- well then I’ll be off. Kiss for the winner?” Ymir tilts her head down to quickly peck Historia’s lips before sliding past us towards the stage.

“Good luck chum!” Annie shouts though her bottle, waving her hand absentmindedly.

“Soy el mejor! I am the best, I don’t need it!” Ymir calls back… and I thought that I had a massive ego.

“Say, French Fry, is she ever _not_ cocky?” Annie asks Historia, who seems to be shaking her head like she’s heard it a thousand times.

“I’m from Canada, and yes, she is.”

“Oui oui- I know, the name just suits ya is’all. Now come on guys place your bets. Who will the winner be: one half of our token lesbian couple, or the girl who can eat an entire tub of Cookie Cube in one sitting?”

 

It’s tough to call; both girls are brilliant in their own right. Ymir can defiantly hit all her high notes like its no ones business, and Sasha has the intricate movements of some sort of hypnotising snake charmer that both are leaving everyone in the club chanting for more. They mix their songs up a little bit, different ones working to both their advantages- all upbeat and dance-worthy however, from Kesha to some party-inclusive electro-swing remixes incorporating both rhythmic saxophone drones, the thudding crash of Reiner’s drums and grinding buzz of Connie’s guitar.

“ _Baby baby I've been waitin' for the one to blow my mind_ -“ The two girls face back-to-back occasionally leaning on one another and grinding up and down playfully all in the name of good fun.

“ _Baby maybe you can get it if you got that thang I like_!” Ymir may be over-confident after all, but she’s not spiteful over light-hearted contents like this, and she most definitely is not grossly competitive in Sasha’s addictive company.

Amongst all the noise and drunken tomfoolery, it seems Historia and Bertolt have been pulled away with some theatre friends, leaving Armin, Mikasa, Annie and I in a conglomerated mush of limbs and really purposefully bad dancing from swimming arms, the window wiper, and full blown Grease-lightening disco moves.

“MI-KASAAA! Kitchen routine number seven!” Annie chants, tugging at her flatmates arm, “Pop and lock, shopping cart-“

“TOP ROCK, CABBAGE PATCH!” Their fabulous display as both Armin and I transfixed and cackling hysterically, chanting them on-

“Hey Jean, crack out some of those salsa moves Windsor’s been teaching ya!”

“I don’t know about that but I think my sprinkler is pretty flawless- _chu chu chu_!” I announce, pulling one hand behind my head and darting the other one out in front of me earning a loud cackle from the three of them.

“You are the worst! Put some more body into it like- BAMB BAMB!” Mikasa shoves me lightly before attempting the same move to a far more dramatic and somewhat uncharacteristic degree. I’m glad she’s having fun… it’s exactly what all of us needed-

 

“HEY!”

His voice drills through my skin right down to the bone, and I feel my whole body shudder with intense anxiety before two hands force themselves against my back and I’m shoved forward multiple steps all while still registering what is happening-

“Woah-“ I falter, finding my balance on Annie before darting round to find him there.

His face red and- _fierce_.

Eren.

“Hey back off!” Eren pushes me back again, causing both Annie and I to retract a few steps further, utter surprise plastered across all four of our faces.

What- what is he doing here?

Did he know we were coming? How long has he been watching us?

Wait, no- a bar uniform. Fuck, since when did he start doing shifts here again?

“Excuse me?” I retort, straightening myself up and screwing my face up in irritation at his brash course of action.

“You heard me step the fuck off!”

What the hell is his problem?

“Get off my- what the fuck?” I yell, yanking his hand off my shirt and throwing it back down to his side.

“Don’t touch her you shit!” He points angrily at me and the contents of our past conversation only weeks prior all comes flooding back in its nauseatingly endless cycle of miscommunication and thoughtless blame-pointing.

“Not this again-“ I roll my eyes tiredly, swatting his hand away before lifting my own arms up in front of his face, “Eren- I do _not_ like Mikasa!”

“Bullshit! When you were grinding up on her all like that?” He spits, his face screwing up and flaying his arms madly between Mikasa and myself, his furiousness reaching such a pathetic degree anyone would’ve thought he’d just caught us fucking on the spot.

“I didn’t even touch her!” I retort, because, hell- it’s the fucking _truth_! I was stood next to her, that’s all- God knows what phantasmal day-dream his jealous shit-for-a-brain has cooked up!

“Eren calm down!” Mikasa finally intervenes, stepping between the two of us; an arm extended either side to keep us apart.

“You know what? Just forget about it Mikasa it’s freaking useless!” I pull her towards Annie and myself, Armin taking a few steps away from Eren and towards the rest of us, all facing Eren, “He won’t listen no matter what we tell him!” I glare once more before turning my back in an attempt to put an end to the infuriating topic.

 “You’ve stolen- _everything_ from me!” Eren darts forward in a calamity, clutching hold of my arm like some sort of vicious bear trap, refusing to let go and tugging me back towards him in a way which only tells me his desperate not to let the topic go.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

He must be. There’s no other way to explain this- this _fantasy_ he’s projecting!

“You’ve pinned everyone against me! Mikasa, Armin- you stole them from me!” Eren continues to drag me before Mikasa pulls me back towards her, only making his eyebrows dip down more, his jaw strained and shaking.

Once Eren ceases, an abrupt lack of sound interrupts us, the humming groan of the amplifiers and muffled confusion of party-goers fills my ears before some of them start to realize the building tensions between us in the middle of the room, and many stop what they are doing to turn and face us.

“ _Stole_? Eren last time I checked I’m not yours to steal!” Armin fumes, breaking the silence between us and shaking his head furiously before moving himself next to Annie, out of Eren’s reach.

“OI! Everyone needs to calm the fuck down now!” I hear Reiner yelling from the stage steps, his volume increasing as he makes his way through the parting crowd. Connie and Ymir follow shortly behind him; who upon arrival points at Annie and Ymir to pull Mikasa towards them and out the way.

“TEN YEARS! Ten years and not a single word from you, even when I came back!” Armin carries on, and not once do I think to stop him, even if that is rather uncivilized of me. But I know for a fact that he has been hiding that frustration for far too long at this point; dying for answers as to why Eren just suddenly started ignoring him. “Believe me, you are the _last_ person who owns me!”

“Stop it!” Connie pulls at Armin’s shoulder, warning him to calm down before things get too heated.

Well, it’s too late for that now.

I’m not going to stand down for the sake of Eren any more, and I’m not going to let him unnoticeably continue to walk all over me, Mikasa, Armin, all of us, for any longer.

“I do _not_ have a thing for Mikasa. Got that?” I sigh out one last time, plainly, loud enough for everyone to hear without raising my voice at him again, and slicing my hand once through the air with an affirmative cut.

If he can’t understand this now, then he’s just asking for trouble.

And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold myself back.

“YES,” Eren grasps hold of my shirt, “YOU,” I throw him off me once again stepping forward and squaring up, “DO!”

“NO I DON’T-“ This, this is impossible. How many times do I have to say it? Will he ever understand? No- not until I tell him, not until it all comes out, and then he will have to believe me,

“YES-“

“NO! I’M GAY!”

The air in my throat is like wet sand under feet. Calm and serine at first, soft under pressure. But then it starts to irritate, and clings like a virus. Unshakable. Unmoving.

 It’s relentless and it’s invasive and I can feel all eyes drilling into mine like nails in a coffin. The words are similar in a sense, irreversible like death.

It’s nothing like what I felt when I told Armin, back then- I wanted to, even if I didn’t know it myself, I felt sick yes but, it felt right in a way- the burden was lifted in that one moment and looking back on it now it was _so easy_. In comparison anyways.

Now, now I feel intruded upon- I didn’t want this, not yet, it’s not the time, not for everyone at least. Yes, Eren aught to know, but no- this was not how it was supposed to be.

“You're,” He stammers, his nose curling up as he looks down at the floor and all around, anywhere but my face if he can help it, “You're, you're w-what?”

“…I’m gay.” It’s too late to return it now.

Fate has its peculiar ways or coming around. It’s volatile and mysterious- unchallengeable like Rutherfordium.

“Wha- why, why didn’t you tell me?” Even though I knew it was coming, his words still strike me violently down to the bone and like a trigger I release,

“Because it’s _not your right_ to know Eren!” I rub my hand across my face, taking one quick swoop of those around me, all still frozen in their place at my declaration, those knowing and unknowing alike, “See this is your problem! You think the whole damn world has to constantly follow the same stroke as you!”

“What? You, y-you thought that I’d mind? Me? Of all people?”

Reiner’s face is the first I spot in particular this time, and it’s that of pity, for who I’m not quite sure at this point. I feel a hand reach for the back of my shirt, clutching worriedly at the material, perhaps fearing some retaliation to Eren’s stubborn response. My instant understanding of the action is to be from that of Armin, surprisingly enough however, shifting my eyes back to I spot Annie instead; her eyes boring into my own with a cloudy strain that I find to difficult to decipher.

‘Do it’

‘Stop’

I don’t know what she means. I don’t know what anyone wants from me. I just know what I want for myself.

“No of course not but- it’s always all about ‘you you you’, why can’t I have something for myself for once?”

“And you guys? You all knew?” Eren shifts his head around the room in agony for some sort of answer to a question he seems to have already made up his own answer for already.

“… It was pretty obvious dude…” Connie whispers, darting his eyes down to the floor when Eren’s head snaps in his direction.

“Not to me!”

“Oh my God why does this have to be such a big deal to you?” I groan, pacing in a quick circle and rushing my hands through my hair as if the action would remove a little of the nauseating burden pressing down on my being.

“It is, because you have all of these guys on your side and I have nothing!”

“ _What sides_? This isn’t some fucking teenage love-triangle Eren! What are you even talking about? Open your eyes you idiot, look around - what is there to be jealous about?”

Eren drops his head down to the floor, unmoving until his shoulders begin to shake. Is he… crying? Wait, no- laughter?

Eren continues for a moment, caught in his uncharacteristic giggle which one would deem almost too innocent-sounding for the topic at hand, if it wasn’t for the bitter-sounding tinge at the end of his tongue as he continues,

“Aha- ‘Jealous’, that’s the word. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you have a mom… or that your dad didn’t walk out and leave you just because he didn’t want to deal with settling down- yeah maybe I am jealous…”

If I didn’t know Eren like I did, his words would have probably struck me with a more emotive cord. We all know he struggles with missing his mom, even if he doesn’t say it out loud. It’s an uncanny feeling of loneliness that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, least of all my friend, especially not when it’s the same nervous pang I feel whenever my dad gets sent away. But what makes me mad, what has me clenching my hands into repulsed fists at his words, what I _can’t stand_ to hear him say- is that he has ‘nothing’.

“Are you actually being serious right now? Eren you have it _so easy_. You have a load of friends, you have a big, beautiful house and money and Erwin and Levi and you won’t accept any of it out of some false sense of pride bullshit- just come off it already! You think you’ve got it hard? Ha, that’s a joke!” I spit, lunging my head forward towards him before pulling back and circling around the free floor area, “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve had to work to get a word in edgewise against Eren fucking Jeager, the ‘star of the show’?”

Of course he doesn’t, Eren gets whatever the hell he wants. He hardly knows what work is, Erwin and Levi would give him the moon if he asked for it.

“Well guess what, I’m sick of pretending- this is my turn! You are not going to keep me from doing what _I want_ any longer! Ha-“ I shove my hands into my pockets and twist my back away from him, “like I need any help from your weak ass anyway!”

It’s a low blow on my half, I know it is. I have the tendency to loose my temper when frustrated, I did it back when me and Armin walked back from the gallery gig, I just seem to lack any from of sympathetic filter under high-tides- I suppose it’s just ironic that yet again it is Eren causing the hideous side of my personality to resurface.

“What did you say?”

“Don’t play dumb now- this whole jealousy over family and friends crap is all a load of bullshit!” It’s like I can’t even stop myself at this point. Perhaps I may regret my choice of words later on, but right now all that matters is giving Jaeger what he’s had coming to him for a _long time_.

“Stop it Jean.” Mikasa’s voice is the last thing I hear before I zone out on all outside activity completely, trapping myself in alone with Eren and his furiously tensed hands. It’s as if as Mikasa’s sixth sense has the exactly right idea of what I’m about to say. Oddly enough her voice is rather calm in the back of my head, as if she knows already that it's too late to stop me, and any attempts at retribution for either Eren or myself have completely gone out the proverbial window.

There’s going to be no easy way of saying sorry after this one.

“I get why you’re _really_ jealous, why you feel like I’m stealing everything from you. It’s because you know, you know don’t you?” I continue to tease him, egging him to understand, Eren paces around a little, listening to my taunts carefully, his face still red and savage.

“Know what?” He grins menacingly, it’s only then do I realize our expressions match exactly. We know what is going to happen; it’s a wicked and violent thing and it’s bound to cause more trouble then its worth, not just for us but for everybody else too.

Still, we’re excited.

“That I’m _better_ than you.”

Eren’s fist collides with my jaw.

It’s a little to the left, hits my bottom lip, and when my hand snaps up to cup my face, I can sense the rawness in its sting. In my mouth and between I taste it too, cool and metallic- blood- and this time it’s not fake.

I bush my fingers slowly over the split lip before pulling back to inspect the red smear covering them under the dark yellow and green colored lights of the bar.

None of the others dare move from where they stand, their eyes glued onto both of us and breathing heavily, nervously anticipating our next move, debating whether or not to intervene.

“Ha ha- Better at what, life?” Eren pants, pulling himself back up from his swing, smirking erratically at his work, “Yeah congratulations Jean… it looks like you clearly have everything in order.” Eren spins round on his heels, observing the forming crowd and pointing a scrutinizing thumb back at me, “dumb fuck can’t even tell his best friend which holes' his favorite!”

“You- better shut the fuck up now Eren…” I drop my hand back down to my side, clenching them both up into fists one again, “Leave, before you regret it.” I warn him, because I really don’t know how much will-power I’ve got left.

“You know what bring it Kirstein - make me if you think you’re any better, come on!” Eren yells proudly, darting back round to face me, throwing his hands towards his chest, “GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT!”

That does it.

I only begin to hear the sounds of protests and gasps of shock after I lunge forward, tackling Eren to the floor, bringing my clenched hand down against him. One,

“URGH-“

Two,

“FUCK- YOU!” three, four.

 I pound my bruising fist down against Eren’s face a fifth time before gripping him by the shirt and pulling him back up to stand.

Feeling Eren’s knee collide directly into my gut, I let out loud, choking cough and pull back long enough for him to take a second swing himself.

“EREN!” Mikasa screams, and out of the corner of my eye I spot her dart forward in a blinded panic until Ymir scoops her in between her arms and refuses to let go despite Mikasa’s protests.

“JEAN STOP IT NOW!” Reiner grabs hold of the back of my shirt and yanks me back a few steps. In blind rage however, I shake his grip free and dash forward again, grasping hold of Eren’s scuffed shirt and flinging back against a nearby table.

“UFF-“ Eren groans as his back collides with the side of the table and I lean him down, pinning his back against the surface roughly, despite his squirming legs and hand scratching against my face, shoving me away. “LET- GO OF ME!”

This time it’s my head which collides against the floor when Eren kicks me back. On top of me, my image seems to fade each time I sense his fist smash against my face and chest.

 

I already looked battered before, ripped clothes and make-up, now- now I must look rather close to unconsciousness.

I’ve never been the best at fighting; I wasn’t even the person who would win in the playground as a kid. Somehow, still, even if I tried so hard to keep myself to myself, the big, fat mouth of mine always landed me a clip round the face or a shove on the ground.

My eyes begin to glass over with exhaustion with each swing Eren takes, each time his physical anger collides against my skin, the more and more I feel myself giving in to him like I always do.

What’s the point… maybe I’m not the better man after all.

“EREN STOP!”

“QUIT IT!”

“JEAN!”

Everyone’s yells and screams begin to mold into one, like one great but unhelpful mass, a mesh of limbs and barbaric screeches, trying to pry my away from under Eren’s unforgiving fist or him off of my body while still trying to remain a mutual party.

Nothing seems to work however; he’s lost his composure completely.

I feel drugged, sedated and dizzy in a way I cannot begin to fathom, but it’s when my eyes begin to flutter shut that the overwhelming sound of car sirens assault against my stinging eardrums.

“SHIT- COPS!” Someone shouts from the across the bar, shortly followed by an orchestra of yelling and frantic running in every which direction.

“SCATTER!”

The overhead bar lights blast on, intimidating bright- blindingly so- and I find myself shielding my face between that and the crashing hordes of underage drinkers clambering out every-which exit, police dashing in through the others.

“Wha-“ I muster in confusion, attempting exhaustively to push myself onto my hands and knees, “A-Armin…” I croak out, reaching my arm out towards him. Everything seems to move like a flick-book, darting in and out of my mind before turning to black. All I see for certain is the figure of Armin being forcefully pulled out the door by Connie, before an unidentified knee collides with the back of my head and I drop down to the floor.

 

*

 

“Hey… HEY! Can you hear me?” I feel my eye stretched open, a torch-light inspecting inside but I’m too exhausted to flinch away.

“What-“

“Yep, this one’s been drinking too.”

An officer. He pulls away from my face and a feel a second pair of hands force me up into a sitting position.

“Oh- _god_ , my head-“ I moan quietly, shifting my hand up- wait- my hands, “uh,” I breath out trying to tug my hands free. Metal against my skin. Handcuffs.

“I found his I.D.- fake.”

“Jean Kirstein is it? You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-“

“Wait- what?” I shift my head to the side, spotting what looks like a few more stragglers and bartenders left behind, being detained or interrogated, multiple officers walking around the bar, searching around and talking amongst themselves.

This- this has got to be a dream? This can’t be real, everything in my head, it all seems fuzzy, white and blurred- I’ve got to be imagining this- this- oh god my head-

I twist my neck around again to the other side where I spot him.

Eren, sat beside me, his hands cuffed behind his back too, staring intensely at me, his face dripping with sweat, red and bruised. It’s not even anger at this point, it’s past that. His look is so glossed over, ashamed almost- that he can’t even bring himself to blink or open his cracked mouth.

I-I can’t be arrested, I, I don’t have any money- my mom, she’s miles away, I-

“Let me speak to him for a moment please officer, I know him.”

Oh god nonono please no-

“Jean,” Ian’s voice is collected but not all together calm as he crouches down in front of me.

“Wha- wha- what are y-you doing here?” I feel my lip quivering pathetically, the sight of him now frightening me to such a degree that I feel my heart drop deep into the pit of my stomach and my mouth turn miserably dry.

This can’t- can’t possibly be real, how can he be here? Of all places?

“My flight arrived earlier today. I have a friend in the neighborhood, we wanted to catch up. I saw the signs for the open-mic night, figured it’s a good way to spot local talent.”

“Nonono- I-“ I stammer, my eyes widening before darting down to the floor in shame.

“You know I was going to give you a call in the morning?” He looks sadly at me, glancing down at my battered face and then to my hands behind my back, “I guess it was a good thing I came here tonight though.”

“Nono please- _I’m sorry_ -“

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it!” Ian’s voice rises to a far more frighteningly disappointed level, it’s sharp and firm and unwilling to shift, “Underage drinking? Assault? Do you honestly think this is the sort of image Shinganshina is looking for?” He snaps, shaking his head furiously at me, all of which I feel Eren view next to me in extreme confusion.

This is- this is his fault. Is it not?

Or is it my own?

“I-I didn’t mean to- _please_ \- give me another chance-“ I can feel myself welling up, my head snapping back to follow Ian’s movements as he steps up and further away from me, “I’ll make it up to you! I swear!”

“No, you don’t get another shot at this! You’ve blown it Jean; I can’t hire someone like you!”

“PLEASE!” I beg him, lunging forward where I sit, but am instantly pulled back by an officer behind me. Ian shakes his head, waving his hand back at me and making is way to the exit where he stops still, glancing back sadly once more,

“I really liked you, ya know? I thought that you were better than this.”

His words grate in my mind, like strict cords on an out-of-tune violin. It’s a sharp pain, it’s quick and painful and all too real to be part of some disorderly hallucination.

The level of disappointment, it’s too believable to shy away from. This is happening. This is real.

“I am, I can be- _no, please_!”

Ian steps out the door- his body in front of the countless lights of police cars casting a large but ever decreasing shadow leaving the bar. It crawls away a fraction at a time, and I want desperately to reach out and hold onto it, but still it continues, further and further away from me in a fashion I have no means of altering, no matter how much a yell and plead.

I’ve been dropped.

It’s- it’s all over.

“PLEASE!”


	17. Act 2: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so long since I've written from Eren's pov, but expect a lot more of it to come now, this is very much an Eren and Jean fic after all.  
> Hope you enjoy hearing about Eren's past and his side of the story- and Merry Christmas/ Happy New Year!! Have fun <3

**Eren**

 

A person can only sit in their own company for a set amount of time before they start to loose their mind.

I hate being alone.

I always have. It’s just something about the ambiguous panic that it causes me. I spend the entire time wondering about everybody else; where they are, what they are doing, if they are thinking about me.

I wonder if my dad still thinks about me.

Ha, that’s a joke. I’m not even sure the guy knows my middle name.

San Francisco. That’s the last place I’d heard he was, that was about seven years ago. Apparently he’s got some accounting job with a construction company, but some sort of water damage fucked up the foundations of his house and he couldn’t afford to pay off the debt it was putting him in. Erwin had tried desperately hard to keep it hidden from me that he’d called, to spare me my fragile twelve year-old heart; it didn’t work though. Mikasa’s mom had dropped me off home from dance class a little earlier, and I managed to peer into the family room just as Erwin and Levi were pondering whether or not to give the selfish bastard some money when he called up asking for help.

I never found out if they did give him anything to help in the end. I don’t even know what he’s doing right now… if he’s working for the construction company… if he’s still in San Francisco… if he still cares about me. He could get hit by a god-damn car and I’d never even know.

I wonder if he’s ever seen the inside of a holding cell like this one.

 

How is it that I can feel so claustrophobic when I’m the only person in the room? Oh well, at least this isolation doesn’t hurt as much as it did back at the bar… back with _that_ guy.

That arrogant prick, that- that lying jerk! One thing after another and another and another, he kept so much from me. I- I though he was my friend- my best friend. And then I thought he was sleeping with Mikasa- _God_ , that would have been so much easier! I’d already accepted _that_ when I saw him at the bar, I already had a clear mind about why I needed to give him a piece of his own medicine-but _NO_!

It just kept flooding out, confession after confession after confession. He’s- he’s gay and he never even told me! What was he thinking? That I would care… _really_? Half of our fucking friend’s are- I live with a pair for god’s sake! He, he didn’t trust me that what it is! He thought I would go behind his back… that I would double-cross him- the way he double-crossed me!

A recording contact? What the hell was that all about? That- that guy at the bar, he said he was from Shinganshina Entertainment- ha! That slimy fuck was gonna go and get a record deal without us! Does he, does he think we’re not good enough for him or something?

Or… or maybe just me?

Hang on I mean, the other guys knew about everything else… what’s to say they didn’t know about that too?

But, but would they really keep something like that from me- what would that possibly achieve? What did shutting me down and casting me out like some sort of useless fucking spare part actually mean? Why- my friends, why would they do that to _me_?

 

“UGHH- LET ME OUT OF HERE ALREADY!”

 

I’m all alone.

I don’t have Mikasa, the band or the guys, I don’t have Armin. I- I think that’s one of the things that hurt the most about tonight. I hadn’t really realised until he’d said it, how much I’ve been ignoring him. I don’t even think I really meant to do it either; it was more of a subconscious coping mechanism and means of shutting away all of those painful memories that his presence ignites within me.

Armin was around those worst years after my mom died- so therefore he is a constant and mind-gnawing reminder of the fact that she is… you know, gone. Whenever she was having Chemo, or was too tired to pick me up or being rushed around to the hospital by Erwin- apparently Armin and his family was always the place where I was sent.

I was too young to remember much about my mother, crusty old cassette tapes don’t exactly do her much justice, but at least through them I’ve been able to hear her voice.

Oddly enough though I still seem to recall some rather mundane childhood pleasures I spent with Armin and his folks. His old family home was pretty nice, a bit smaller than mine now, but the neighbourhood was rather similar. He always loved living so close to the Lyndhurst, sometimes during summer vacation his dad would take us for a bike ride up to the manor. We’d have lunch on the grass and watch the tourists roll in with their cameras and their back-packs and the bright wondrous grins on their faces because they were so amazed by something I could easily enough drive through the streets of Tarrytown to visit whenever I so desired. It worked as a good distraction for a grieving child, unaware for the entirety of his younger life that his mom had probably been lying as she tucked him into bed, saying that she was feeling ‘a whole lot better’ all along.

Maybe that’s why I enjoyed watching all the happy-go-lucky tourists so much, they made me envious of their blissful ignorance, I wanted to be able to be happy in the same way they were, so I latched myself onto their pleasantries, pretending that they could ever be my own.

I know I shouldn’t blame Armin for my own inability of letting things go. It’s not exactly his fault he was there at that time- it is my fault however that I’ve been ignoring him like the plague since he arrived back in New York. I didn’t mean to do it; not really, I just couldn’t handle looking at him. He’s hardly changed at all; still so full of life with those big blue eyes of his that it just taunts me of how much energy he had- that he still has- while all I can remember of my mom was that she could hardly lift a book without wincing. When I saw his face at the gallery… I was happy at first, of course I was- he’s my friend- I just, went numb when the idea had settled in. And then the numbness grew and I couldn’t look at him directly in the eyes without the tight grip on my chest, quenching at my humanity and demanding grief to overcome me again like it always does. Because why on earth is Eren Jaeger allowed to be happy?

 

Erwin’s going to kill me.

He’s not the sort of guy to get that mad very often. Levi, _ho_ , Levi will flip his shit if there’s a stranded sock on the banister rail but Erwin, no he only tends get angry over the bigger, less trivial matters. Like getting into a fist fight with your supposed best friend at a bar, yeah, he’s sure going to be disappointed with me for this one.

When I was young, for the first few years after my Mom died, I used to have this terrible habit of wandering off in the mall all by myself when Erwin wasn’t looking. He’d contemplate clutching onto my hand on many occasions, but I wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of children, and so the hassle of dealing with one of my brutal temper-tantrums would more-often-than-not end with all eyes locked on him and the screaming child he was clutching onto in the middle of Target. Not exactly the easiest thing to explain to mall security.

I think I know why I did it, why I’d walk off on my own, although I only feel a whole lot sillier when I accept that I do. I used to wander off in the hopes I would get found. Not by Erwin, no, but by some shop assistant or retail manager. Then I could tell them I was lost and they’d have to play the little service announcement over the speakers,

“This is a public announcement- could the parent of Eren Jeager please report to the customer service desk immediately?”

After all the hassle I didn’t even want Erwin to come and collect me, not really. As a matter of fact I created the whole fiasco within my tiny little mind in the hopes that somebody else would come pick me up, a mother, maybe a father too, to arrive and whisk me away to a magical land where the three of us could live out my childhood together the way it _should_ always have been.

Ha, how horrifying of me… no wonder some people have those phobias of freaky little children in school uniforms holding onto balloons and lollypops. But I’m not like that now; I don’t actively try and rip apart my own make-shift family in the hopes of finding another one- that would just be ridiculous.  I have in some ways, grown to love Erwin and Levi like one would their own parents, as much as it annoys the heck out of me to admit.

I think I only began to allow myself to accept my situation when Erwin really, and I mean _really_ , blew his cool with me. I must have been around nine, Erwin had been dating Levi for about a year and I guess I must have been getting jealous of the little time the two of us were spending together or something stupid like that- I tried to run away for good.

Well I say it like that but I’d thought I was doing it for good every time I slipped away and in reality all I’d done was spend the night over at a friends house or camp inside the local 24-hour Burger King until Erwin came to collect me after a little ‘cooling-off’ period.

That one time though, it was different- I don’t exactly know why or what had driven me over the edge, but then again anything from those happy-as-Larry 2.5 suburban family television advertisements to the annual Mother’s Day dance at school used to be enough to set me off. I packed a bag, left a rather feeble note on my bed saying goodbye, and headed straight for Pocantico Hills in the middle of the night. In hindsight I hadn’t made it much further than the lake at Tarrytown Park, but it was enough to terrify Erwin out of his wits all the same.

He and Levi had taken each edge of the park, flashlights in hand and phones set to call 9-1-1, screaming out my name the pair of them. Erwin was the first one to find me, on a park bench huddled deep inside my coat to escape the cold. November was probably not the best time to construct my escape from civilisation after all. I’d never seen Erwin look as frightened before, nor have I seen that same expression since. His face red and eyes glistening, his jaw tensed and just filled with such agony before instantly bending into relief when he finally caught sight of me, engulfing me within his arms before I could so much as fathom a response.

His grieving seemed momentary however, quickly and rather curiously it was rapidly replaced with anger and he grabbed hold of each my shoulders and shook me insanely, begging for a reason why I would do such a foolish thing.

I couldn’t respond to him… I couldn’t do anything… how could a nine year-old ever explain something like that?

“I PROMISED!” He started with me, continuing to shake my teary and trembling body and yelling into my face, as if that would stretch the point across any clearer, “I PROMISED YOUR MOTHER I WOULD LOOK AFTER YOU!” His head fell into my small and trembling chest, his own shoulders shaking with a grief I could hardly understand, “WHY- WHY WON’T YOU LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU?”

It was then that I came to understand.

I had been selfish, far too consumed in my own unhappiness that I’d forgotten Erwin had lost someone too. Not only that, but that I’d been neglecting the fact that even in death, my mother still cared- she was concerned about what would happen to me after she was gone and for that she gave me Erwin as my fresh-start on life and there I had gone and treated him like some sort of punishment worth rejecting.

That’s my problem.

I still do it now, I think that everyone is out to get me and wants to hurt me and I know that I do it but I can’t stop myself to stop because I can’t bare to feel anymore loss than I already do.

You can’t loose someone if you don’t get close enough to care.

The problem is that I _do_ care, even if I lie and say that I don’t.

In fact I care so much that I’m sat inside a concrete room contemplating whether or not I should have keeping everyone I love at arms-length.

I should have done that with Jean, perhaps then I wouldn’t have such a sour taste in my mouth over his- treachery, if I can call it that.

Instead all it seems I have managed to achieve is that of turning myself into both a pathological liar and terrifying untrusting human being.

 

*

 

“Eren Jeager?” An unfamiliar female voice calls to me from through the sliding shutter atop the door.

“Uh- yes?” I start, pulling myself up quickly off the bed to face the source of the noise.

“Looks like you’ve got somebody to come collect you.” The officer continues, sliding the shutter closed before the rustle of keys interrupts her and she opens up the cell door, gesturing me to get out. “There’s some paperwork for you to fill in at the desk, oh and if you’re spotted anywhere near a bar or night-club within the next few months, or caught with any sort of alcohol within your system- well I don’t need to tell you about all that.”

“…Okay. Um, what about-“ I turn my neck back as she begins pushing me along down the long straight corridor towards the exit.

“The other one? He’s already gone; his ride arrived a little earlier.”

He got out before me? Not surprising I suppose, anyone could have come fished him out- I’m sure Reiner and Connie could pay his bail until his folks reimburse the two of them.

The clinical and strictly symmetrical foyer of the station is virtually empty except a few last-night workers and drunken punks waiting anxiously for any news as to their situation to come through. Still,  I spot him instantly,

“Eren…” Marco’s concerned voice comes over to great me, though it’s much flatter and less cheerful in nature than it is usually. He stays bundled inside his winter coat with his phone clutched nervously inside his hands, and watches me with cautious eyes as I turn my attention to the front desk.  

“Sorry for making you do this.” I murmur, taking hold of the pen on the desktop and finishing signing all the papers before collecting back my phone and wallet from the officer at the counter.

“Yeah well, that’s what friends are for I guess.” He replies rather bluntly before thanking the officers and clutching hold of my arm, leading me outside.

It must be the early hours of the morning, too soon for the sun to begin rising in the slightest, too early for the world to begin waking up again.

“You’re lucky that there is still one more train back home tonight, or we’d be royally screwed.”

‘Lucky’

Ha, well ain’t that some sort of twisted truth?

 

I stay silent the entire journey back to Tarrytown, allowing instead for my eyes to close inside the empty train car and listen to nothing but the sound of both Marco’s breathing and my own, along with the obnoxious clacking of the tracks and frequent screeching of breaks.

Marco doesn’t speak up however either, probably at a loss for appropriate words. He may not exactly know Jean or the others particularly well, but his is insanely familiar with how close I am- or was- to the lot of them, and so he’s most likely at a loss at to what could have possibly happened to cause an argument of such an epic proportion.  

Most people look at Marco and think he’s an overly happy personality; I however can see how false it all is. Marco has this certain look about him, on some days it’s more noticeable than others, but the best way to describe it as is simply a look of sadness. He is not happy with his life, then again I don’t think I would be particularly jolly either if my entire existence revolved around keeping alive my family’s crumbling pizza restaurant. I can’t bring myself to call him out on why he tries to hard to appear gleeful when in reality I can sense that he is truly hurting inside. Maybe that makes me a bad friend, but when I can relate to his family struggles to such a personal degree, I find it difficult to understand why he fakes his content attitude so hard, as if that might truly make things better for him.

Marco likes to paint himself as a positive thinker… he is not however, a positive do-er.

“You’re such an idiot.” The freckled teen sighs, his head falling down against his hands. Yet still, I find it impossible to reply.

 

When we make our way back home from the station, Marco halts himself at the end of my drive and says he’s continue home instead, seemingly apprehensive about entering the house and I can only put down his bizarre behavior to an eagerness for getting to bed and avoiding anymore drama with me for the remainder of the evening.

“See you later… um, thanks- again.” I stammer, unlocking the door and stepping inside as discreetly as I can-

Wait, the kitchen light is still on?

Gradually I remove my shoes and tiptoe down the corridor towards the light source, Erwin probably just left it on before going up to bed.

Pushing the door open however I spot instead Levi sat unnerved at the kitchen table, unlit cigarette between his fingers and ash tray in front of him.

I can’t bring myself to open my mouth, yet I know he’s established my presence. He’s changed out of his work clothes I can see, opting instead for some lounging pants and an old AC/DC T-Shirt, yet I, stood shamefully in my creased, dirt-clad work-shirt and bruised face seem far less formally suited.

The air is so thick between the two of us one would need an axe to cut it through. It’s suffocating, I want to escape it, but how can I rocket on up to bed with so many unanswered question left open like a deck of cards on a playing table?

 Why would he stay up this late? Surly not to fuel his tobacco habit? Was he waiting up for me to get back? I don’t see why he would bother; he knew I was working… Unless, unless he knows what happened.

“Tebogo called the other day,” Levi breaks the rising tensions, rummaging his pocket for a lighter before placing the cigarette between his teeth, “he said he sends his ‘love and best wishes’ towards the three of us.”

“… Well thanks nice of him” I start awkwardly, my eyes unmoving from the freshly-lit butt resting between his fingers as he takes a long, drawn out breathe- in and the out, “I mean he’s a pretty down-to-earth guy-“

“You know-“ Levi interrupts, apparently already tired of our bullshit excuse for a convocation. Addressing the elephant in the room, he drops his hand down from his mouth with a loud thud against the tabletop before drawing his seldom gaze up towards me at the kitchen door, “asking one of your poorest friends to bail you out, not a smart move.”

“Marco told you?” My eyebrows dip in annoyance at his sarcastically bitter tone.

What is he doing? Mocking me, picking on my disgruntled state? Or simply producing some sort of nervous barrier in order to protect himself from truly expressing the anger he most definitely must be feeling towards me right now.

 “Marco had to tell me or you’d still be sleeping on some concrete slab in the Yonkers Police Depo.” Levi hisses, shaking his head slightly which only makes my frown deepen.

Of course Marco had to tell him, I’m an idiot, he would never be able to afford to bail me out of there on his own.

Unable to congregate an appropriate response, I find myself instead judging the smoke escaping between Levi’s lips in such elegant and organised fashion he can almost pull off the whole look as classy as if he were Rick Blaine from Casablanca, that would be if I didn’t know any better as to all the obvious side-effects.

“I thought you’d quit smoking?” I frown, taking a few more steps into the kitchen and folding my arms over my front. Levi continues to find the entire ordeal rather amusing and smirking, taps the bud against the ash tray before bringing it back up to his lips without a visible shred of apology.

“Well I won’t tell Erwin if you don’t.”                                                                  

Ah, so it’s going to be _that_ way is it?

“Where is he?”

“Tulsa, again. Who knew board meetings could be _so exciting_.” Levi muses, his eyes widening jokingly at me.

The convocation falls rather flat and I find myself inept of matching Levi’s mockery with some form of witty response, instead making a B-line past him to the refrigerator and collecting a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf.

“This never would have happened if you’d have just taken theatre like I said.” His words are blunt and judging, and they irk me to my core- I knew this convocation would play out this way I just knew it!

On any other night I’d shrug off his constant bombardment of theatrical pleas as nothing more than a joke-too-far, but now, after the events of the evening- I am finding my patience to have all but disintegrated completely. I am just _not_ in the mood to have this conversation right now.

“Oh quit it with all the lecturer crap will you?” I snap, slamming the refrigerator closed and walking out the kitchen door without even bothering to look back.

Fuck, I just need to sleep, to lock myself away, anything that’s not fighting for the rest of the foreseeable future, there’s only so much verbal aggression I can handle in such a short space of time after all.

“HEY! Who exactly do you think you’re talking to?” Levi barks, darting up from his seat to follow me into the hallway, the metal screeching across the floor in an irritably loud fashion, “I didn’t have to drag your ass out of there!”

“Well congratulations to you Levi, you really are ‘Man of the Year!’” I snort bitterly, spinning round on the balls of my feet, walking backwards facing him, “Go put that with the rest of your trophies from the ‘pretentious-asshole, vicarious dream-hustling Olympics!’”

“See, this is what I am talking about! Those- those delinquent friends of yours and that good-for-nothing band- it’s all gone turned you into this washed-up mess-of-a-boy!”

HA! ‘Delinquents’? Oh has his brain really become that consumed by this theatrical day-dream he hold on to? Projecting his West Side Story bull-crap onto me and the people I’m around like we're his own personal Jets and Sharks!

“ _Christ,_ just stay out of it! Why does it concern you so much what I do with myself?”

“BECAUSE I REFUSE TO LET YOU MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES THAT I DID!” His voice cracks slightly as he finishes, obviously not prone to exceeding such great volumes. The shock I feel towards his proportional outburst seems to be matched only by himself, and watching I find him retracting a few steps back up the corridor, looking cautiously down at the ground in the process, almost as if he’s embarrassed by his own words.

‘Mistakes’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Does he mean not taking up any other Broadway rolls after Sweeny Todd? Because if so, _well_ , he really ought to get his priorities in order!

“What are you even talking about?” I grimace, planting the bottle down on the cabinet in the hall and making a few steps back towards him brashly, _“_ I don’t want to prance around in some pink glitter-suit or sing some crappy power ballad on stage; that’s your dream not mine!” I point my finger angrily before turning my back to him.

This convocation is over, I’ve had enough… of _everything_.

“Now you are just being ridiculous! How could you possibly know if you’ll never even give it a chance?”

“I don’t need to! Now just lay off will you? _God_ it’s exhausting to be around you!” I roll my eyes, pulling myself up around the banister and begin to ascend the first few steps upwards before I feel Levi relentless clutch hold of my arm.

“You’d better grow out of this attitude real quick Eren! Then best pray to God that boy Jean still has _an ounce_ of care left for you before he thinks of pressing charges!”

“Charges?” I angrily detach myself from his grip, ignoring his pleas and continuing up the stairs in flippant fury.

“YOU HIT HIM FIRST! What, you don’t think I got all the little details when the call came through? Here’s to hoping you don’t have a lawsuit on your hands because that is the last thing you-“

“OH JUST SHUT UP DAD!”

 

I don’t know how it’s exactly possible, but my own words come as nothing but a complete and utter surprise when the cascade from my lips. Levi seems shocked too, abruptly dropping back down a step or two, his eyes wide and aghast, his hand which previously snatched at my arm now floating stupefied within the air between us.

Embarrassment is the second emotion that comes to mind, and I feel myself bite down on my lip harshly, as if punishing myself for making such an immense mistake. When the realisation finally settles in I spin, darting quickly up the rest of the stairs, into my bedroom, and slamming the door in rapid haste behind me.

Gasping out, a much needed and therapeutic breath, I drop my head down against the closed door and scrunch my tired and stinging eyes closed, my hand still clutching tightly onto the handle, as if still attempting to prevent Levi from following after me. Not that I think he will actually bother for the remainder of the night.

‘ _Dad_ ’

I’d rather not contemplate _that_ choice of wording ever again.

No, that would be far too nauseating… and disturbingly pleasant.


	18. Act 2: Bertolt / Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is- the last chapter of the year, and just in time for Bertolt's Birthday tomorrow too! Figured it was high-time he was indulged with some mundane fun as everything else seems to be turning into hell on earth around him, also Connie's little brother and sister were two pleasant rays of sunshine to write as of all the sadness as of late!
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful new year and I'll be back with updates then! :) Thank you!

**Bertolt**

“Come on in, doors’ open!” As soon as Reiner’s response meets my ears I push down on the handle and step into the apartment, spotting him instantly over at the computer desk by the lounge window, typing rapidly and glaring harshly at the screen through the lenses of his reading glasses.

“Hey, you look cute in your glasses like that you know?” I smile, appreciating the pleasant nature of the maturity of his features when framed with his on-occasion prescription of spectacles; they really do make him look intellectual. I dip down to peck Reiner’s cheek in greeting before leaning against his shoulders and matching his intense glance at the screen, “what ya doing?”

“You always look cute.” Reiner smirks, his face not moving from the screen. “I’m proof-reading Connie’s latest article for the college magazine, listen here, _‘the aptitude of those attending Professor Henning’s Thursday morning lectures on the historical importance of the adoption of the Waltz into the sphere of absolute music during the 19 th Century, has become only as sufferable as the absolution from in-between-class snacks from the Trost Building second-floor food vender, which has mysteriously ceased to function since the beginning of term’_.” Reiner chuckles, reading the excerpt aloud before spinning round in his chair to face me, “I mean I’m proud of the guy for nice use of an extended metaphor, but I’m not sure how well insulting his professor’s lecturing tactics is going to go down…”

“I wouldn’t worry; everyone seems to have fallen in love with the magazine since you guys started writing for it, even if Eren appears to have negated his duties as of late.”

 

Ever since the other night at the jazz bar… well the topic of both Eren and Jean seems to have become a taboo we all much prefer to tip-toe around, fearing any sort of second-round retaliation and finger-pointing of blame like the last time.

That evening was a disaster to say the least, as soon as the cops arrived the whole building turned into a mass panic to escape, luckily all the rest of us did, even if we did have to forcefully collect Mikasa and Jean’s friend Armin up in our arms in order to do so. Everyone ended up crashing at Reiner and Connie’s place after that, Mikasa curled up in Connie’s bedroom along with Annie, Ymir, Sasha and Historia- all desperately trying to calm her own furious guilt at leaving Eren behind.

It was Reiner and I who took the van back into Yonkers to pick Jean up from the station when he called us, it’s not like he has any family close-by who could have bailed him out after all. Still, as much as Reiner and Connie seem to be on far more pleasant terms with Jean as of late, I don’t think the two of them appreciated the hassle of being out-of-pocket until Jean’s mother’s money came through, more still that Jean had been stupid enough to pick a fight in the first place, causing trouble for everyone there and making the unsettled tensions between him and Eren far less easily fixable.

Perhaps it’s too much trouble for those two to even try and be friends, if all they can do is make the other person feel worse about themselves.

 

“How’s your morning been anyway?” I change the darkening subject, planting myself down against the desk surface.

“Well except for this, just waiting for-“

“REINERRRRRR!” The front door flies open, in cascading two small children at lightening speed, diving over onto the cough before leaping across the top and tackling at Reiner’s legs.

“-these two to arrive.” Reiner finishes with a sigh, pulling both children up to eye-level, “Sunny, Martin! Now where has your big brother got to?”

“Connie’s still picking our stuff up out Mom and Dad’s car-“

“Yeah we got this GINORMOUS new pirate ship to show you!”

“AND RACING CARS!”

“AND-AND PAINTS!”

Connie’s twin brother and sister’s yells and cheers continue, shaking at Reiner’s arms before Sunny attaches herself onto me with surprising force given her tiny frame,

“BEAR-TOLT BEAR-TOLT! ARE YOU GOING TO PLAY WITH US TOO?”

“Well- I- I mean I suppose so-“

“YAY! AND THEN BIG BROTHER SAYS HE’LL TEACH US SOME NEW DANCE MOVES TOO!”

The two of them are exactly like their brother; maybe not in their physical features, their curly chestnut hair being much of a parallel to Connie’s lack there-of, but in spirit and energy- oh they are virtually his miniature doubles. I think that’s why Reiner has figured out how to manage the two of them well enough, already exceedingly familiar with Connie’s own peculiar tendencies and casual bursts of child-like energy on the most random of occasions.

Soon enough as the two eight year-olds begin to settle in, Connie waddles his way in through the open door, pushing it shut with the back of his foot and collapsing down along with the handful of over-night bags under each-arm.

“Oi,” Connie pants, dropping down onto the sofa, “just because Mom and Dad are having a little vacation away from you for the night, does not mean that _I_ become your personal baggage slave. We live three flights up you know!”

“Connieeeee, we’re hungry!”

“Yeah we’ve not had lunch yet, we’re starvinggg!”

The two of them whine, darting off to swarm Connie by the sofa, and Reiner and I both can’t help but let out a short laugh at Connie’s misfortune.

“Yeah yeah hold your horses I gotta unpack your stuff in my room first, since I looks like I’m the one on the sofa for the night!” Connie moans, collecting up the bags again and trudging over to his room with a slight grumble, “Leaping lizards… kicked out of my own room like some family reject at an overcrowded Christmas party.”

“I’ll sort out lunch.” Reiner offers, pulling himself up from the chair and making his way over round the breakfast nook and opening up the fridge, “What do you guys want? In fact, looks like ham sandwiches because that’s all we got.”

“Wow! Look at you all dad-like, in your glasses and now making lunch for the children.”

“Well you’ve seen the sorts of things Connie eats, what was the last invention? Peanut butter and French fries? If anything I’d rather the two of them have some kind of balanced diet.” Reiner snorts pulling some bread out the packet and beginning to portion on the butter.

“How’s he been anyway? With Sasha I mean, everything still okay now right?” I worry, finding my own hands helping prepare Sunny and Martin’s food, it quite cute really… the thought of putting together kids meals with Reiner…

“Better then okay Jesus!” He leans in close to my ear as to avoid catching the attention of the kids seemingly wrestling each other with pillows over by the cough, “They’ve been at it like rabbits since the whole Mormon sing-song extravaganza… I’ve been sleeping with my headphones in when you’ve not been over.”

“Oh so you don’t think rabbits are cute?” I laugh, twisting my body round to lean against the counter, Reiner, grinning, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me down for a chaste kiss.

“Oh yeah rabbits are cute, Connie’s sex noises are not.”

 

It’s at times like this I find myself wondering whether or not I’m doing the right thing, or if it would be kinder to let Reiner go, he ought to have the same relationship that Connie and Sasha do if that’s what he wants, and I don’t want to be the person who comes between that.

Still, it’s at these same times that Reiner is able to figure out exactly what I am thinking about, and rushes in to tell me again that it is not a problem, and its then that I find myself trusting him. He’s the happiest thing that I’ve got going for me right now, so as long as he is content with the way things are, then so am I. It’s not like I can say my day-to-day activities account for much, I still find theatre about as enjoyable as a root canal surgery, and with Ymir on my back at an even more bone-crushing level than usual with the Christmas period and West Side Story closing in, I can hardly find escapism except the moments I’m alone with Reiner. Hell, even Mom and Dad are-

“You look stressed out, Ymir giving you hell again? Your folks?” Reiner presses worryingly, placing a hand on either of my shoulders and rubbing at the tensed muscles soothingly.

“That’s what I came over for; my Mom called me this morning, looks like her and Dad are coming to the city within the next few days for a meeting with Professor Levi. Since my attendance has dwindled down so low, they wanted to come over and ‘fix the problem’. I think they’re worried I don’t enjoy the theatre course or something… shocker.” I find myself laughing bitterly, of course I don’t enjoy musical theatre I’ve been telling them that for years.

“I’ve said this before but no offence, you parents sound like complete dicks.”

“Ha, better not say that if you meet them for dinner. ‘Dicks’, ain’t that the truth though? Well, nah I mean… I love them; they just never listen to a word I have to say.” I sigh, picking up the two plates and making my way over to the couch, passing them over to the twins.

“So you think you’re finally going to tell them you want to quit, properly this time?” Reiner follows after me, sitting down next to Martin, teasingly stealing a piece off the plate, much to the child’s annoyance.

“Yeah… yeah I think so. Do you think it’s the right thing to do?”

“Do whatever it is that makes you happy, life’s to short to act amused for the sake of others, and I know how much you hate performing like that.”

“DID YOU SAY A PERFORMANCE?” Sunny jolts her head up from her plate, her eyes gleaming in delight.

“What? No I-“ Reiner stammers, interrupted by the twins who begin cheering gleefully, the volume immense enough that Connie darts out his room to catch the source of the yelling.

“YAY! Come on Reiner, you and Bear-tolt and big brother can sing us a lunch-time song!” Wait when did I get dragged into this?

“Yeah… I don’t think so. I don’t exactly have any show tunes in my guitar arsenal.” Connie defuses the two of them; making is way over to the rest of us.

“DO IT DO IT DO IT!” The twins protest relentlessly, shaking at both Reiner and Connie in heavy demand.

“Christ, fine you banshees… Bert, you know One Republic?”

“Ah… yes but- are you sure? I mean, I’ll feel like I’m intruding on your band or something-“ I bumble out awkwardly. I mean, it’s not like I’m embarrassed about singing or anything, just, with all that’s been going on lately, I don’t want to give out the wrong impression to Jean or Eren, like I’m trying to steal either of their places or something like that.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying to play the drums since Eren and Jean’s shit hit the fan. Let’s just hope the neighbors aren’t in!” Reiner darts up to collect his drum kit from his room, “This’ll be great!”

 

I’ve never tried drugs before; I’d like to hope I never do either. The peer pressure has been present enough yes, a number of different parties and get-together’s where someone or another has brought a load of joints along, but I’ve constantly been someone who would politely decline and move along.

That being said, if I could fantasize within my mind what it’s like to be high, then I would like to presume it’s a lot similar the way I’m feeling right now.

Freedom.

Self-expression.

Pleasure.

All things I’ve struggled to find for years, all things musical theatre has taken away from me before I ever truly had a chance to experience them. I understand how many would disagree with me, finding their own types of joy within performing a show-piece upon stage for thousands to see. But that’s just not for me.

Something raw, something original to myself alone, that’s what I want. It’s not that I’m saying I don’t want to sing on a stage, I’d really like to, but what I mean is to sing and perform in the same way Eren did that night at the art gallery. He was amazing, so energetic and full of life, and he was himself- not pretending to be a different character all together for the pleasure of others.

I want to sing like this forever if I can, I want to do everything in my life this same way each day of my life. It’s the only job I ever want, the only role I desperately want to take-

 To play as me, myself, as Bertolt Hoover- that’s all I’ll ever need.

 

“That was incredible!” Connie is the first to cheer, strumming at the chords of his guitar one last time, “We _need_ to do that more often! We totally sounded like 2013 Paramore… you know if you were a dude like you are and… and not Hayley Williams I mean.”

“Really?” I question him, startled that he would feel the same way.

“Yes really. That was incredible babe.” Reiner offers honestly and I feel my heart squeeze. Doing that, all the time… that would be… well he already said it- incredible.

“Woah hello e-mail coming through,” Connie interrupts, pulling his phone from his pocket and examining the message, “oh shi- I mean damn, Reiner we’ve gotta go, auditorium, Hanji says it’s ‘urgent’.”

“You joking? Hang on; is this the real ‘urgent’ or Hanji ‘urgent’?”

“Beats me, but we aught to go… ah Sunny and Martin- um-“ Connie clambers to get on his jacket and sneakers before turning back to the twins in realization, “Bertolt! Would you mind staying with them for a little while?”

“YAY! PLAYDATE WITH BEAR-TOLT!” Sunny and Martin both cheer excitedly, tackling me into a forceful hug, “WE CAN SHOW YOU OUR NEW CRAFT SET!”

“I- um-“

“Please please _pretty_ please, we’ll be super super quick I promise!” Connie begs, putting his hands together, although the mischievous grin on both his and Reiner’s faces are too apparent to refuse. They know these kids will cause hell on earth.

“Well –I guess so…” I answer nervously, looking down cautiously to the two children pulling desperately at my clothing like I’m a walking, talking game of tug-of-war, dreading the impending idea of having my face covered in powder paints and glitter-glue for the remainder of the afternoon.

 

 

**Eren**

I don’t suppose Levi bothered to mention my little… mishap the other night to Erwin. He did try to talk to me as normal as he could fathom the next morning, though his civilised manner came off as nothing but terribly awkward and I ended up excusing myself to one of the dullest college seminars I’ve ever had the misfortune to suffer, but at least it got me out of the house for a little while. Moreover, I’ve been missing out on virtually all of my practical sessions as of late… there’s no way I can look at Mikasa in the studio right now, so it was better for me to try and show my face in lectures at the least.

I wonder if she’s been doing okay without me, she probably had to take on a whole different dance topic all together that doesn’t require a partner, I’ve been so nervous to talk to her that I failed to even think about how I’ve been affecting her college work- just because we’re on a break ourselves, doesn’t mean we’re not dance partners anymore.

Ha, a ‘break’. That’s what she’d called it that time in the studio, after that whole Chicago performance, god that feels like a century ago now- I’ve lost track of the days without her there beside me. I wonder if the terminology ‘break’ is even suitable anymore, or if I permanently spoiled any chances of us two rekindling after my behavior at Hannes bar.

Well it wouldn’t be the first relationship I seemed to have tarnished as of late- what are we up to now? Three? Jean hates me, Levi is embarrassed by me, Mikasa… does she still love me? I dread to think what I’ll do with myself if she doesn’t.

 

“Hey! No skating on campus grounds!”

Jesus there they go, student patrol on my ass yet again- or more likely- my penny board’s ass. I wouldn’t have used it on site if it wasn’t for Hanji’s e-mail about meeting her in the auditorium for a matter so incredibly ‘urgent’ that I had to get the train all the way from home to arrive here as fast as I could.

Hopping off and collecting the board, I make my way past the conglomerates of students and professors all gathered in the Sina campus square, past the water-feature and up the steps towards the auditorium.

On the occasions I do find myself on Sina campus, I can’t help but marvel at the beauty that is the grand structure of the auditorium, even if I do persistently tell myself that I despise everything that happens inside of this building to represent. Maria, where my dance classes are held, is a collection of rather old-fashioned brick buildings and studios, while Rose campus definitively matches its artistic nature, having high-tech and modern pieces of abstract architecture which make up its foundations. Sina on the other hand, the golden gem of the college, for the singers and performers, has all its buildings large and towering, making everyone who walks among them feel smaller  and intimidated in the same way the high-rise skyscrapers of the city do too. Its decorative structure is rather a mixture of both Maria and Rose, the old and the new, but highly prominently stands the auditorium at its centre, unlike any other building in the entirety of the college. Its lush red brickwork is deep and rich-looking in nature, with grand towering beams like those on a church, surrounding the outside, holding the structure together in a strong and intense looking manner, uniform and correct- it really is the glowing beacon of M.R.S.

 

“-makes us come all the way down here saying it’s ‘urgent’ then fails to even show up. I knew it wasn’t really anything important!”

“Yeah but what’s this note? _‘Dear boys, Levi says be careful of the scaffolding on the stage where the West Side Story set is being built, it still might not be stable. Don’t touch or he will murder me.’_ ”

“Murder _us_ for touching it if we do more like…”

The three of their voices echo louder and louder the closer I make my way towards the doors leading into the auditorium itself.

Should I go in? I mean… they most definitely do not want to see me… I’ve not spoken a word to any of them since that night at the bar… But, this was my job first I mean- if Hanji wants to see us over something about the magazine, then I have just as much a right to be here as those guys… as _him_ … right?

Sighing one long, drawn out breath, I push the doors too and continue straight ahead down the main isle towards the stage. The sound of the doors opening and closing is enough to make Reiner, Connie and Jean all dart their head up to find source and although I can feel their burning gazes drilling harshly into my skin, I continue my march up towards the three of them with the blank expression written across my face being my only form of protection.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” I hear Jean spit, shaking his head and looking away from me in disgust.

“Jean stop-“

“Who the fuck does he think he is-“

“I’m just as much a part of this magazine group as you are.” I find myself darting in almost involuntarily as I make the few steps up onto the stage like the three of them. It would seem I’m yet to help myself when it comes to holding my tongue against Jean’s foul words.

“Screw the magazine you just can’t get enough of trying to ruin my life!”

“Jean just drop it already!” Reiner snaps, rubbing a tired hand across his face, “This fighting has gotten so fucking old, give it at rest, the both of you.”

“Oh that’s rich Reiner you telling me to calm down too then cushioning over to his side like you have done this whole time! You’re so two-faced it’s unreal!” I find myself biting back. The last thing I want to do is fall out with anyone else as well, but it’s like the guys won’t even give me a chance against Jean- it’s obvious who their favorite is and it undeniably pisses me off!

“Hey don’t start on Reiner now too!” Connie intervenes, making his way over to the blonde’s side, “He’s not had a problem with you this whole time Eren!”

 “Really? Because I didn’t exactly get _that_ memo when you two paid this pathological liar’s bail the other night!” I cross my arms angrily, pointing a degrading thumb in Jean’s general direction.

“Well I’m sorry you dick, we don’t all have rich-as-shit parents living in the city for every time we get into a spot of trouble! Not like it’s my fault I got caught anyway, you’re the one who started it.”

“They’re _not_ my parents!” I yell out. They’re not, they’re fucking not!

“ _Jesus,_ Eren, you’re so god-damn defensive just get a grip already! Why are you so angry all the time? At least you’ve still got them- what do I have? _You_ ruined _my_ one shot all because of your pathetic jealously!”

“ ‘Me, me, my, my’ you fucking narcissist! This could have all been avoided but you didn’t think to tell any of us about your little record deal!” Everything that comes out of this guy’s mouth is like liquid shit! God I swear he just talks through his ass-

“Wait- what record deal?” Reiner voice lowers, confused and his eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh oh, they still don’t know? Wow Jean you’re an even better liar then I thought! This guy was going our behind our backs to get his own recording contract; he doesn’t think we’re good enough for him!” I gossip, the smile on my face wide and prominent. _Finally_ , they get to see what a lying scumbag he is instead of blindly following by his side all the time.

“Is that true?”

“What? No I-“ Jean stammers worryingly, diverting his gaze to the floor.

“Yes it is!” I practically laugh, oh wow- now this is getting good!

“It’s not! Listen you guys all had dancing and sculpting and boyfriends and girlfriends and I was all by myself! Singing, it’s what I do. Did you expect me _not_ to take it when the offer came around? This is all I’m good at!”

Yeah good at that and lying directly to his friend’s faces, that’s another thing he’s got cracked.

“You could have told us dude…”                                                                

“Well jeez Connie I didn’t really think about that! You know, you’re not exactly the first person who comes to mind when I’m looking for a piece of serious advice. I mean, you couldn’t even figure out how to take care of your own relationship before you came sobbing at my knees!”

The colour drains from Connie’s face in a fraction of a second, his features fall down in defeat and his screws his hands up into tight, unwavering fists. Not that I really understand why, I mean- when did he and Sasha have an argument? It appears yet again I was left out of the loop on something of critical importance like everything else as of late.

“… Low blow man… that was harsh, even for you…” Connie practically whispers, his voice hoarse and wobbling.

“Fuck, Connie I didn’t mean- God it’s this guy! He brings out the worst in all of us!” Jean shoves his finger into my face; as if I could possibly be at fault here, I hardly even know what they’re talking about!

“Oh _really_ Jean? You’re really going to blame me for your attitude problems now- can you ever take responsibility for what you yourself have done?”

This guy, he’s like a child afraid of getting scolded-

“I could say the same to you Eren but yeah, I am going to blame you for this one because everything was fine with us all until you came back from fucking Africa! You’re- you’re like an aggression magnet, everything bad and troublesome always follows behind you like a ball on a chain!” I feel both Jean’s hands force against my chest, pushing me backwards a few steps at intense speed.

“Did you just _push_ me?” I hiss, finding my balance.

“Yeah I did!” Jean shoves at my chest again, and once he does it a third time I find myself retaliating in a similar manner.

“Oh you really wanna go at it again?”

“Can’t you just apologize to one another, _please_?”

“Sorry Connie I don’t exactly think an apology will work right now- and God knows no flashy little tap number is gonna fix this guy’s problems!” Jean shoves one more, each time becoming harder and harder, only making my boiling anger rise.

“Death on Two Legs maybe- you’ve always been a king of the sleaze ey’ Jean-y! Come on if you’re such a better singer than me like you said before, then I’m sure a little Queen won’t phase ya!”

“You guys stop it-“ Reiner warns, though this time he makes no effort to pull us apart, not that I really blame him… I’m tired too.

 

I don’t exactly think I’m a person who understands their own moral compass clearly. I can tell the differences between right and wrong easily, yet somehow I still manage to make the most terrible choices, leading to only disastrous consequences for both myself and those around me. I think that Mikasa has always been the person to ground me from expelling such reckless behavior on previous occasions. She’s always been there; I hardly remember a time without her except the summers when I’ve been away, even then all the conservation work is usually enough of a distraction from stopping me making a fool of myself like I seem to be doing right now.

Still, even if all those activities in Botswana kept me busy for the time physically, it clearly didn’t stop my mental state from spiralling around like a never-ending merry-go-round of troublesome pondering. I was terrified for her, for all of them, what they were doing without me- if they were enjoying themselves. Jean said it easily enough though,

_“Everything was fine with us all until you came back from fucking Africa!”_

He’s right, I- I mess everything up for those around me, my jealously, my inability to hold my own tongue… my failure to accept the fact that I want to be happy and that the only way I can find that same happiness it to not pretend like I don’t need those around me in the way that I truly do- instead I just push it all away like it doesn’t matter.

I just push-

I push-

I push Jean again-

 “Wow Jean you must really want me to plough your face into the floor again!”

“Sure you did, come on Jeager!”

“You bastard-“ I shove Jean away brutally once more, like I do constantly with everything I carelessly invite into my life.

 However the force this time seems unexpectedly harsh and Jean stumbles behind on his heels, his body falling back against the wooden scaffolding of the West Side Story display with a loud and unnerving crash.

 

Everything seems to happen in a slower motion from there. Like a domino effect the towers and beams fall loose and apart, caving in on each other or breaking apart entirely. Jean manages to pull himself away before anything lands onto him, but the damage is already in motion. Sawdust and cloth tarp cascades down from the building work as everything begins to crash to the floor.

The noise is agonizingly loud; painful even on the ears. However, it still is far from enough to cover the girlish screech of terror that partners the falling display as it all comes tumbling down to the stage floor, destructive and absolute.

Only when the dust clears does her body become visible amongst the damage-

“OH MY GOD-”

We all dart forward in a blinded panic-

“OH FUCK- CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

I can’t even fathom which one of us is yelling at this point- was that me? Or one of the others?

“YMIR- YMIR CAN YOU HEAR US!”

She lies unconscious underneath the tarp and wooden rubble, dust shrouding her scratched face-

“DON’T MOVE HER!”

One of us warns, terrified of the casualty at hand-

“F-FUCK!”

“OH GOD- YMIR!”

This was us.

We did this.


	19. Act 2: Historia / Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of the horrifically sad events of the latest manga chapter, I hope this Yumikuri and Jearmin fest is enough to make you feel better!
> 
> Hope you enjoy (sorry about the late update, I've had mock exams) <3

**Historia**

 

There was no dramatic tension simmering within the air when Ymir arrived at the hospital yesterday afternoon. No constant metronome of the cardiac monitor, no bombardment of doctors and nurses rushing to revive her from some sort of terrifying comatose state. She was awake by the time the paramedics had arrived at the auditorium, confused and yelling out but thankfully very much alive.

It seemed I was the second person the boys decided to call after the accident, which was logical given Ymir’s lack of family in the States. However as strong-willed as I tried to remain for her own sake if no one else’s, I couldn’t help myself from crying out as I watched her being hauled up on the stretcher into the back of the flashing red ambulance.

A break, in the upper quarter of her femur- in other words a fractured hip. That along with a sprained arm and enough cuts and bruises to label her appearance one of a petty street fighter if no one knew the real reasoning; she really was in a sorry state. After the doctors had finished all their routine examinations and bandaged up what they could, Ymir retired for the evening and I was forced to leave as soon as visiting times were over. I came back to the hospital as soon as I could this morning however, screw classes they’ll know exactly where I’ll be- Ymir’s a popular girl after all, the whole ordeal is bound to be the front-runner of all campus gossip for the foreseeable future, I wouldn’t even be surprised if there was a local Twitter trend circulating at this very moment.

 

“Your dad says the next flight he can get isn’t until Thursday.” I close the door behind me as I make my way back into the hospital room, individual and condensed, but large enough for a hand-full of people to come in without there being too much of a squeeze. I plant myself down in the chair beside Ymir’s bed I’ve remained occupied in since the early hours of the morning, its plush blue fabric may be soft but it doesn’t stop your legs from going numb after remaining immobile for hours on end, then again I can hardly say that with Ymir’s legs tucked tightly and unmoving under the blanket draping over her. I reach out to grab hold of her scarred hand and brush at the knuckles with as much comforting fondness as I can muster, though I’m not really positive it has much of a pleasurable impact it’s having in this current state.

Her dad was worried when I told him what happened- obviously so- Ymir’s always been his ‘special girl’, he adores the zeal of her above all else it seems. He is intensely passionate about her own intense passions, perhaps the peak of ‘supportive father’-dom itself. He’s the sort of man everyone wishes they are related to, simply because he has such a beautiful sensibility about him, such a warm and open heart that it’s near impossible not to be in a good mood whenever you hear his wholesome voice.

 _“Will she walk?”_ Was the first thing he asked.

_“Most-definitely so.”_

_“Will she perform?”_ Harder to answer. Bitter to swallow.

 

“What’s the point? I’ll be discharged by then.” Ymir’s body appears to sink down even further into the mattress, pulling the thin cover up around her chest as if she’s trying to abort herself from the situation entirely.

“Maybe but he’s going to want to see you still, to help you get physiotherapy sorted out…” I try to reach her with a compromise, Ymir isn’t exactly the easiest person to persuade as it is, even worse so now-

“I don’t need therapy.” Her voice is affirmative and final, its strong and intense much like the way she presents herself when performing- _‘focus your attention onto me, what I say, what I do- that is what’s absolute’_. Only now the words which escape her mouth are not the Ymir I know at all, they are vexing, they are ready to give up. I don’t like them in the slightest.

“You need to get back on your feet Ymir, West Side Story is less than two months away now-“

“I love you babe but please don’t be naive… I’m not performing Anita, we both know it.”

I do know that damn it but, but who says that means you stop trying-

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to get better-“

 

Our rising debate is cut short by a hesitant yet still loud enough knock against the room door, and upon calling the patrons to enter, Annie is the first to bust her way through, shortly followed by a rather guilt-ridden Jean and- Ar-Armin? I think that’s his name anyway.

“Hey…” Jean starts sheepishly, reaching round and rubbing the back of his neck before darting his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a small envelope, “Ymir- you… uh… you doing okay?” His eyes dart down to the floor under Ymir’s intense stare of mockery at his obliviousness from between the white pillows; so he proceeds by interjecting with a shove of his arm out towards her, “I um, I know you’re not really into flowers and all that jazz so I, uh, I brought you a Build-a-Bear gift card… figured you could get a new one to match that BDSM giraffe you got…”

The insanely awkward silence between the two of them is enough to make anyone want to make quick pace to the exit, even more so as Ymir, unblinking, curls her body round and twists her head away from the boy completely, her back all that’s left for him to see.

“Thank you guys, that’s really kind of you.” I rescue Jean’s dignity by extending my hand to take the envelope and placing it next to Ymir’s small collection of ‘get well soon’ cards and hoard of condolence chocolates on the surface at the foot of her bed.

Jean’s gaze diverts to Annie beside him and she seems to return his glance with a pitying, yet still objectively stern mannerism about her. Eyes following back back to Ymir, Annie slowly makes her way round the side of the bed and crouches down in front of Ymir’s face, smiling subtly,

“Hey chum. You know, the Starbucks across the block just stocked up on their epic enchiridion of commercialised Christmas pastries, want me to get you some later?” Silently Ymir nods her head once before pulling her face out from between to covers to face Annie head-on,

“What’s with the blue dip-dye Kate Bosworth?” Ymir manages a fraction of a grin, gesturing her head towards the fresh neon-blue tinges at the tips of Annie’s blonde hair.

“Mikasa has all but written her last will-and-testament as of late; and she’s virtually refusing to leave the apartment after all that’s happened.” Annie picks up a collection of her hair between her fingers and views it for herself, “I got bored, figured it was high time I tried to bring some sort of light into the darkening abyss of bullshit-level depression that’s seems to be surrounding my usual minimally tragic life.”

Her overtly blunt response appears to make Ymir’s lips upturn a little more, however quickly enough the exchange becomes overshadowed by Jean, crossing his arms harshly and frowning down towards Annie.

“And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” His voice is irritated and confused and causes Annie to retract upwards from her crouching position, back a few steps across the room towards him.

“Well, you uneducated ginger pear smoothie which has mysteriously taken the form of a man; it means that my friends- including you I might add- have all collectively managed to fuck up their own lives to such a _splendid_ degree that it has left them all under lock-and-key within the metaphorical dog-house that is ‘tough shit’, and now I have exactly next-to no one left to play fetch with anymore.”

I’m not quite sure I understand her analogy, but still the affirmative spit with each word she expels only causes Jean’s eyebrows to dip down further.

“Oh _wow_ , so you are mad at me now too?” Jean cranes his neck flippantly, spinning around on his feet and shaking his head to the ceiling, “Great!”

“Ah, well yeah Jean I mean it is kind of _your_ fault. Eren’s too but that’s besides the point- in fact you,” Annie stops herself upon taking a glance back at Ymir who seems to have resumed her position facing the rest of us at the surprising introduction of rising anger boiling between both Annie and Jean, “Jesus you know what never mind. We do not need to have this debate right now.”

“Yeah could you please save that one for another time?” I agree, squeezing Ymir’s hand between my own, though quickly she pulls it away and pushes herself up from the bed brashly, attempting poorly to mask her sharp wince in the process,

“OH NO YOU GO ON RIGHT AHEAD! I mean, it’s not like it stopped you _before_!” Her voice begins to crack in painful frustration as she finishes yelling, and she clutches her hands against the blanket angrily, dipping her head to hide the quivering of her lip.

“Listen Ymir, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that this happened to you, but this isn’t my fault- Eren pushed me!” Jean darts himself forward towards the bed, his voice pleading and arms flaying out wildly.

“Oh my god _really_ Jean?” Annie barks, twisting round angrily to face him, hands on her hips.

“You’re one to talk! What’s with the sudden peacekeeper act Annie? Who was the one practically urging me to retaliate back at the bar, huh?”

“No!” The blonde defends herself, pointing an angry finger back towards Jean, “No I didn’t think you’d go that far you see, I thought perhaps you could have settled the matter in a civilised manner instead of lifelessly laying fists down against one another’s faces. But now all you seem to do is make everything even worse, for you, for him, for Ymir- fuck I mean look at what you’ve done to her- all because YOU refuse to even acknowledge that you might need to apologise too ya know?”

“Apologise? For what? You- you think I wanted to make Eren so insecure about his own relationship? That I wanted to lie to them all about what I was doing the whole time?”

Are they really, _really_ having this argument right now? Oh my gosh none of this is mine or Ymir’s problem as it is- we weren’t involved with _any_ of this until the accident-

“I dunno Jean maybe, you didn’t exactly do a very good job of defusing the situation when he confronted you at the beginning of all this!”

“Well maybe someone else was in a better position to do so like, say- his girlfriend!”

The two of them continue on and on at one another, as if they’ve practically forgotten about where they are anymore, their voices rising with each of their obscene retaliations.

“Mikasa wasn’t exactly the one hiding a fucking bucket list of personal issues under the shitty cover of you two spending more time together! You can defend yourself all you want Jean but I’m with her on this one now, she’s my friend and she deserves to be happy, whether that’s with Eren or without! I can’t stand to see her upset…” Annie’s voice finally lowers and she drops her head down to the floor sadly, “and I’ll loose my God-damn mind if I hear her play a Buddy fucking Holly song one more time…”

The argument seems to deteriorate itself from there, and the two of them remain pacing at their opposite ends of the small room, both refusing to look at one another, debating whether or not to continue.

“Say…” Ymir’s voice is hoarse as she breaks the silence, causing all our heads to dart upwards towards her, “what’s the deal with you then Historia-with-a-dick? You’re awfully quiet over there in the corner.” She glances directly down the foot of the bed towards Armin sat hunched over in a free chair by the door, his hand covering his chin in contemplation.

“Oh, sorry,” The boy lifts his head up apologetically, glancing round to all of us before his eyes rest back to the floor, “I- I was just thinking.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“About Eren.”

His words seem to take Jean by disturbed surprise, and the taller boy’s face drops before he shakes his head and turns his back,

“Great…” His voice wobbles, pushing his hands across his face before turning round, “Great I guess that means you’re starting to take his side now too does it?”

“No!” Armin is quick to defend, his head shaking wildly, “No, no one is taking sides! It’s just… well we can all agree that this whole fighting thing has gotten way out-of-hand- clearly-“ He gestures his hand up towards Ymir apologetically, “and well… I suppose I just think it’s high time one of us goes and hears his side of the story… so we can try putting all of this to rest.”

“So you’re gonna talk to him?”

“Contemplating it, yeah.”

After staring at Armin directly for a long while- in what I can only assume is his means of deciphering the meaning behind the blonde’s words words and in turn, perhaps what that will mean for himself- Jean sighs deeply before replying,

“Yeah, yeah okay… you’re right.” He nods slowly, though the action seems to be for his own benefit more than anything, as if he’s finally accepted what the right course of action is to be.

 

It’s only out the corner of my eye that I see- too far caught up in the whole ordeal of Jean contemplating the value of his friendship with Eren, whether he wants to pine for him or not- I spot her, Ymir, falling back into the bed, arm draping over to cover her face.

“Ymir-“ I start worriedly, reaching over to grab her arm, and it’s then that I feel her body trembling under my touch,

“Could you… could you all just get out of here now please?” She practically gasps through her quickening breathe and tears which begin dropping down from under her masked eyes.

“We didn’t mean to upset you-“ Jean starts, though she’s quick to interrupt, impatient and her voice rising,

“No can you just get out now please! I just- _mierda_ -“ and it’s as if the very aspect of life is being sucked out of her with every shaking breathe she takes, her body regresses inwards and her shoulders begin to shake in grief.

It’s painful to watch, a complete juxtaposition of her usual character, and if anything it makes me feel a certain degree of anger at the events that took place to cause her to feel this way.

With one last quick glance from me it is enough to tell the three of them to leave and they do all so rapidly, as soon as the door sounds shut I sit myself up even further and rub my free hand through Ymir’s matted hair.

“Hey hey, shh-“ I try desperately to sooth, “hey what is it, you were okay just a second ago?”

“I- I know but-“ she croaks, twisting her body away, “then those guys- they started talking about… about how they’re gonna try fix things and- well they _can_ but- but I can’t- I’m _broken_ \- I’m broken Historia!”

“No Ymir, you’re not broken- you just need some time, then you’ll be better and performing again you’ll see-“

“NO I WON’T- I CAN H-HARDLY WALK! DON’T YOU SEE? I’M FUCKED!”

“Don’t say that! It’s not over yet, please-“

“IT IS OVER! IT’S ALL OVER- I’M NOT GOING TO PLAY ANITA AND NO TALENT SCOUTS WILL HIRE ME AND I’LL N-NEVER GET TO PERFORM- I’M OVER BEFORE I EVER BEGUN! NOW CAN YOU JUST GET OUT AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE TOO!”

 

Helplessness is the first feeling what comes to mind, how can I really aid her now? I can’t give her my legs, I would if I could in a heartbeat but I can’t- how can I lie to her face-to-face and tell her I’m positive this is all going to be okay when… when I really don’t really know at all.

I hate myself when I get this way- the goodie-two-shoes, bright-eyes sweetheart who sees goodness inside everything and everyone despite how obvious they exhibit their flaws.

Ymir hates it when I hate myself.

I don’t mean to put on the front, because I in myself know that it’s all fake. Life is what you make it and it sure as hell isn’t good when two 8-foot industrial scaffolding beams fall against your body, there’s no way to pretend that it is.

But even then still, I can’t just sit here and watch her do this to herself, this own internal self-destruction of everything she loves and has worked for and has wanted for as long as she can remember. I love her and I love her passion and I can’t watch that all go to waste without so much as a single fight.

 

“W-why aren’t you leaving? I- I shouted at you why aren’t you upset?” Ymir croaks again when I fail to respond, her voice lowered yet still just as pained, her eyes red and burning with a saddened fury unlike no other.

“I am upset Ymir, but I’m only upset for you. And I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever- until you’re back on your feet and dancing and singing like you are meant to do- even if you yell at me to leave I won’t, you got that? Because I am your girlfriend and I love you and I’m not going to let you give up on everything you’ve ever wanted over something like this. Okay?”

She seems speechless for a while, unmoving physically but her brain ticking away with intense speed.

Only when she appears satisfied that she understands the gravity of our situation, does she pull herself up from the bed to sit and face me with some new and hopeful found ability within her tired eyes. Only when she understands that it’s really bad now, sure thing- but it is all far from, over does her mouth open,

“…Okay.”

 

 

**Armin**

 

We leave the two of them alone for about an hour and a half before we decide its high-time to return, unable to leave things in the disastrous state it was. It seems to come to both of the girl’s surprise, then again Annie wouldn’t lie about bringing Ymir food and so as soon as the three of us make our way back into the clinical room, Annie’s first objective is to drop down her multiple paper bags filled with all sorts of sugar-filled and cavity inducing treats for Ymir to select blissfully. At least she seems a lot better than she did before we left.

“Hey Jean,” Ymir brings up, her voice calmed and causal though rather muffled through the speech barrier of her blueberry muffin, “I need you to do something for me.”

He’s still far too jittery, continuously reeling off both inward and outward apologise for his brash behaviour earlier since the moment we returned,

“Uh- y-yeah what is it?” Jean stammers, pulling himself up in one swift movement from the chair and taking a few steps closer towards the bed.

“You know the Thanksgiving dance recital?”

We all do, the posters are tapped up on all the notice boards around campus, I even helped Jean post them under every student room door on campus last weekend, his boss Hanji’s orders.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Well you are going to perform in it for me.” Well that is unexpected.

The news seems to take us all back in surprise; Historia included whose head snaps round rapidly to her girlfriend in bizarre confusion,

“What? I-“ Jean continues to falter, though by looking across to Annie she seems to find the entire ordeal nothing but finely-suited justice.

 

The two of them didn’t exactly talk much when we left the hospital earlier, she said she was sorry for yelling but her apology was only for Ymir and Historia’s sake and not in the slightest for Jean, finalising her words with a harsh,

_“I’m not going to kiss your ass just because Armin is my friend.”_

Jean’s been on a complete downwards spiral since his band-mate Reiner picked him up from the police station that night, he’d all but out-right refused to talk about it, even when prompted and pressured. That was until the night before last, he’d come to see me after my late water-colour lesson and was helping me pack my easel away when he told me,

_“I’ve lost my recording contract.”_

It had come as a shock, truly, I hadn’t in my wildest dreams imagined the talent scout he’s been talking to would find out, and at least not in the way he did.

I ended up muttering out some half-baked response in the form of an apology, not that did him much good, his only way of acknowledging my statement being a thin and agonising smile, his eyes glassy and body tensed to break.

I think that’s why he must have lashed out the way he did in the auditorium yesterday, too tired with holding in the burning frustration he must be feeling right now, I guess it was just bad luck to Eren that it ended up directed towards him yet again. Back luck to Ymir for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently during rehearsal one of her stage directions was to throw a silk scarf up into the air, it’d got caught on the scaffolding and she hung back after class to collect it, she would have succeeded uninjured too, if it wasn’t for Eren pushing Jean the way he did.

Eren.

Jean looked terrified when I brought up the idea of talking to him, perhaps fearing he’d lost me to Eren at the other end of the metaphorical coin which constantly seems to spin with the two of them at either side.

Which way will it land on in the end? We’re all terrified to find out, even if we don’t say it.

I wonder if it’s selfish for me to hope it lands on Jean’s side, because although I’ve been unable to tell him upfront, I too can feel that deep-embedded anger towards Eren to a certain degree it would seem.

Though, as of late, I’m not sure I’m really mad at the guy at all, it’s why I’ve thought so hard about going to talk to him, to try figure out what it is I’m actually angry about- angry about being left behind, at being shut-off, that seems the logical response.

Angry about not being to help him… no, surly not, not after all this time…

 

“You are going to take my place and dance with Historia in the recital and you are going to win the prize money that goes to the winning pair-“

“Ymir no I-“

I was so lost amongst my own thoughts I forgot the topic at hand, Ymir wants- she wants Jean to dance for her at the recital? But why?

“And you are going to give all the prize money to Historia.”

Oh, so that’s it.

“You know just as much as we do the cost of living on campus, just think of how much worse it is for foreign students like ourselves. You are going to dance and you are going to win, got it?” Wow Ymir is kind of scary when she’s telling people what to do, no wonder Reiner’s boyfriend Bertolt is so apprehensive about challenging her authority. Man, I can feel my own hair standing on end with nerves and she’s not even directing her words towards me.

“No Ymir, you don’t understand- I can’t dance! Not like that anyway!” Jean continues to plead, though his attempts seem all for naught, Ymir has clearly made up her mind.

“That is not my problem.”

“Ymir you are being ridiculous-“ Historia uselessly interjects, I wonder how bewildered she is feeling at the surprise demands, it does appear to be for her benefit that her girlfriend is doing this after all, whether she wants the help or not.

“What about Eren I mean he takes ballroom- ask him instead!”

“Do you see Eren here?” Ymir asks the obvious, looking around sarcastically before her eyebrows nit and her voice deepens, “Didn’t think so, now good luck- don’t let me down.”

 

*

 

“I’m screwed!” Jean flays; his voice high in the cold winter air and still just as flabbergasted in its tone as it was back at the hospital.

“Come on it’s not _that_ bad.” I smirk, breathing into my hands and rubbing them together. Annie had decided to bail for the subway home while we opted the walk from Mount Saini back to campus. I do think Annie has rather grown tired of Jean for the foreseeable future, and although I can clearly relate to his pain of being hurt by Eren on such an emotional level, I’ve not known Jean for half as long as the rest of his friends, so it kind of makes me nervous as to how easily they’ve grown tired of his passive-aggressive negativity.

“It _is_ you’ve seen me dance!” It is true; he does rather much look like a fish-out-of-water when trying to dance ‘properly’. The memory of the two of us together on Annie and Mikasa’s balcony brings a small upturn to the corners of my mouth and Jean appears to take notice, “I guess that just means you’re going to have to give me a few more lessons doesn’t it?”

“Yeah… I suppose it does.”

His eyes seem to soften at my reply, and finally a fully-formed grin creeps across his mouth and he bites at his bottom lip teasingly.

Perhaps, I’m being too head-first in my judgements when it comes to him, too far distracted by his attractive charm to make any sort of rational decisions. But as insane as it sounds, it feels like everyone else are the ones who are wrong about him- Annie including- yes he may have some apologies in need of making- Eren willing to hear and reciprocate- but in no way is Jean a _bad_ person. Despite his harsh features, he’s just a cheesy goof with two left feet and the most complex of personalities, he’s fun to be around and he makes me smile and laugh like I haven’t in a long time-

And I don’t think I’m willing to stop myself from having him in my life just yet.

 

“You heard anything from your dad recently?” I quickly change the topic, frantically becoming aware of the obvious blush across my face.

“Yeah he’s doing well, I told him about you too.”

He- he did?

I mean, what did he say? What is that supposed to mean, he talks to his parents about me?

“All good things don’t look so frightened! He said he’s glad I’ve made a friend who into painting- wants you to come over in the summer and fix up the paint-job on his tool shed.”

“Ha! I’m not that kind of artist I’m afraid.”

“I told him that- he still wants you over. I… want you over.”

Wait, what?

“E-excuse me?” I find myself stammering, my face turning a light pink and not the kind you get from the cold weather. We halt in out tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, probably much to the annoyance of hasty passers by though I can’t bring myself to care, no not right now, everything else from the three-piece business men on their phones to the taxi horns blaring out violently at the never-ending traffic is all quickly becoming background noise in compensation to his words-

“I didn’t mean it like- well I did but you don’t have to say yes! I mean- I just figured you won’t have all that much to do unless you’re spending the whole time In England! Who am I kidding summer is ages away, that was so stupid of me you won’t have even thought about all that stuff yet-“

The mindless words continue to tumble out his mouth at a pace I can hardly keep up with, his hands absently playing with the hem of his coat, his eyes frantically glancing towards anything but my own.

“Jean.” I find myself saying slowly, when his proposal finally registers within my mind, what he is really trying to ask me that is- not paint his dad’s bloody tool shed of all things-

“-Yes?” He cautiously lifts his eyes back towards my own, frankly his nervous fidgeting is rather amusing to behold, and… rather sweet.

“You’re so weird.” I mimic my words from back that one night after the gallery gig, when he told me in his usual outlandish manor that he didn’t want to bicker with me for any longer, that he wanted to be my friend.

“Yeah, well so are you.”

“… So… let’s be weird together?” I dare, my own body beginning to tremble with the same childish nerves as his own.

Come on Armin, what’s there to be nervous about? I mean we already- we’re already- _something_ so why not, I mean we’re both adults here… still why does my heart feel fit to burst?

“Wha- I mean- are you asking me?” I can’t help but laugh at his remaining confusion, even now; did he even understand what I was referring to? God knows but this is agonising I just want to-

“Yes you idiot I am asking you if you will be my boyfriend, Facebook relationship status n’all!” I find myself beaming, shaking my head in bewildered amusement.

He stops for a moment, his lips parted and his eyes studying me intensely, it’s almost embarrassing at this point I mean- I just asked him something like that in the middle of a busy street and he’s still yet to reply, oh boy this feels like a decade of silence-

“Well… I mean yeah, but you kind of stole that from me there, I was the one trying to ask you!” He snorts in mock offence, rolling his eyes and tutting like I just made some sort of grave error.

“Well you were doing a bloody awful job at it!”

“Alright Ron Weasley like yours was any better, recycling my old inspirational quotes!” He laughs loudly, pulling me into a tight hug, rocking from foot to foot. His body is warm and a comforting escape from the cold, it feels honest and it feels right- though I dare not tell him I can feel how fast his heart is beating through his chest right now.

“Fine fine you got me! How can I make it up to you then?”

“Well, I mean I’m not saying you gotta or anything, _buuuuttt_ , you could hold my hand if you like, that seems like a good start.” He pulls away, extending his arm out to me and twiddling his fingers.

“I’ve seen your dick.” I reply flatly, glancing down at the hand before enlacing it within my own with a satisfying smirk.

“Always the charmer aren’t ya?” Jean mocks, leaning down to kiss me on the lips, it’s quick and it’s rough and it takes me by compete surprise.

Now I can understand why I’m so reluctant to leave his side.

 


	20. Act 2: Bertolt / Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter time! This one ended up super long though I'm happy because I was super excited to get out a lot of stuff from Mikasa's pov.  
> Hope you enjoy, thanks so much for all your kind comments!
> 
> Also here's the link to the song during Mikasa's flashback (its super cute)- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmIvmZHWVEo

**Bertolt**

 

“You know I hear there’s a revival of La Cage Aux Folles in the works, Bertie you should talk to your professor about auditioning for a part. You sure would make a wonderful Jean-Michel!”

Shut up.

“I _know_ he would, my boy is the best there is!”

Stop talking.

“Well at least he’s better then that god-awful Kenickie they’ve cast for that Grease show tour! I think I’d rather die before I let my son display such a lack of talent!”

I need to tell them. I can’t live like this for any longer.

“Oh my dear you are too funny! Isn’t that right Bertie? Bertie?” My mother’s voice draws me out from the savage illusion of freedom that my mind allows me, back in to the reality that is the two of them together- my mother and father- expecting so much of me like they always do, blindly believing that I accept their wishes for me despite my constant pleas and protests. “It’s rude not to listen when someone’s talking to you. I really don’t know what has gotten into you lately honey but don’t worry, once we talk to your professor we’ll have all of this straightened out!”

I don’t need to be ‘straightened out’- I need to get out of this _hell_.

 

Levi’s office, it’s small and tight, symmetrical in design and violently nauseating in its bloody red décor, like danger and aggression, a conflict I want no part of but somehow find myself drawn within. The regular tick of the Westminster clock overhanging central on the back wall behind Professor Levi’s desk mocks me in its uniform nature. The clock knows how to behave the way it’s supposed to, it knows how to work in the way it was made to do. Tick.

Mother shifts in her seat to my left to face me, the screech of the plush black leather grating against my ears as she turns, gnawing away at me almost as ferociously as her words do. Her glare is intimidating, it shouldn’t be since she’s my mom, but it is. I feel my throat tighten at the pressure, baring me incapable of responding and resulting instead in me darting my head down towards my hands on my lap. Tick.

Where is he? I thought Professor Levi wouldn’t be the sort of person to lack punctuality under any circumstances; he just seems so efficient in nature.

I wish Reiner was here, he’s good at talking in these sorts of tense situations, he’s the one with the initiative do what he wants, not me. If only he was here, then I wouldn’t feel so- so tensed.

God, I’m faint.

 

“I think this is all just some sort of teenage mood swing. You’re probably just feeling home sick. Don’t worry son, Scarsdale is still going to be there by Christmas, then we can all put our feet up and watch Singin’ in the Rain like we used to back in the day.”

I don’t _need_ to go back to Scarsdale… I don’t _want_ to watch a damn Gene Kelly musical!

I have to be heard.

 

My father’s voice- like my mother’s- is nasal and swift, his words pain me. The manner in which he speaks, eloquent and sophisticated, it must only be a trait I inherit when in close proximity of the two of them. We’re all far too similar then I am comfortable with: tall, mule-faced and highly-tensed in nature, our olive black hair, Mother dyes her monthly. Part of me wonders if that’s why they remain so sure they know what I need more than I know myself, because they think these outward features which we share correlate further past my bones and my blood and into the very way in which my mind functions.

Even so, there are some attributes I find immense pleasure that we fail to correspond with one another through, physical features which remind me that I am in fact my own person, an individual human being with the right to my own choices and decisions. My mom’s cheekbones look like they could slice right through a person; my father’s eyes look hardened and aged through the rims of the rounded glasses  and they perch frightening close to the tip of his hawk nose- I on the other hand share no such features. I suppose it’s cruel of me to find such job in being able to separate myself from the very people who raised me.

Oh boy, what am I even thinking about anymore? I’m allowing my mind to drift too far away in the meaningless complexity of my genetics in favour and actually producing a mindful and useful explanation as to how to tell my mom and dad that I don’t want to do theatre anymore.

Today… this is the day I tell them… I have to.

 

“I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting, that staff meeting went tediously over schedule- Mr Hoover, Mrs Hoover- I hope you are both well.” Professor Levi sighs in one fellow swoop as he closes the door behind him and circles the white-painted basswood desk, placing delicately down a collection of files and documents along with his empty coffee mug, “How’s everything back home? All ready for Thanksgiving?” He shakes each of their hands before pulling up his chair and sitting down, hands together atop the surface as his eyes settle carefully on the three of us.

It’s a charade, I can tell. Mr Levi is never so eloquent about anything, he names his students after crude innuendos for excretion, hell the fact that we call him ‘Mr Levi’ is enough of clue in favour of his casual manor. Perhaps it’s all simply because he’s confronting my parents; then again I’ve heard him be blunt with other student’s families before… could it because he knows what going to happen? Is he trying to soften their blow?

“Excellent thank you, though I didn’t think we’d be seeing Bertolt before the holidays. I might as well get down to it professor, I am seriously worried about my son’s recent disinterest in your program. I was- well we were both curious to know if you had any idea as to why that may be?” Mom starts, clutching tightly at the handbag in her lap, her body leaning in close and pressuring.

Ha! ‘Recent’… god they are clueless it would seem.

“Oh please, Levi is fine.” He shakes off, waving a head absently in the air and readjusting himself more upright. In the process his eyes catch onto mine, unwavering and I know he understands- knows I hate this, that I always have, “Well Mrs Hoover- I-“ His words seem caught at his lips, cautious as to how to conduct himself, for his own sake or for mine I am unsure. “Well I think the reason is- um-“

I dart my eyes away from him in nervous fear, terrified of his words and what they might entail. If he tells my parents the truth, will they believe him? Will they finally rid me of their own forceful burden? Let me live _my_ life the way _I_ want to live it?

My gaze falls down towards Levi’s mug of all things- its white and polished bar the rim of dry-stained Nescafe circling the inner contours like some grime-stained wedding ring, though written in blue cursive across the side is a mind-altering phrase, one which forces my brain deliberately revert back to the objective at hand, if I dare,

_‘A year from now you will wish you had started today’_

Today.

Today is the day.

Seize it.

 

“It is because- Mother-“ I let fall free, my eyes blinking quick and my fingers curling inwards into the crevasses of my jeans, “I hate it.”

I feel both their necks twist and elongate to stare me down, their protracted features regressing inwards into such unpleasant frowns they appear to match that of some ancient deflating air dancer that you find outside car dealerships.

To use the phrase ‘hot under the collar’ would be a considerable understatement and nowhere near match the velocity of inner pandemonium striking my thoughts from every-which angle.

I’ve done it, no turning back now.

“You… you what?” Mom is the first to answer me, her voice is hushed and unbelieving, a slight unwavering and ever irritating taunt enlaced within her words, she wants to laugh, pretend the whole truth of my declaration is nothing more than an ill-minded joke.

“I always have. I’ve told you- countless times that I did but you just- wouldn’t… stop.” I swallow; my own voice seems to correspond with her hushed tone, every syllable an agonising but necessary occurrence escaping me with every shaking breath summoned.

I lift my head in moderation, shifting my gaze to the both of them in turn, my mother’s jaw is closed and shaking, my father’s tight and unmoving. Levi says nothing, doesn’t shift from his upright position, it’s hard to even retain his presence in the tight room in his ever silent demeanour.

“No, no Bertie you are being ridiculous! You don’t ‘hate’ theatre, this is what you are good at, this is what you are meant to do!” Mom’s head shakes from side to side between her scorns, frantic and lacking understanding or even attention for that matter. She holds a little tighter to her bag, the pink acrylic of her nails pinching tightly at the matt-cream Mulberry.

“NO! I mean… it’s what _you_ want me to do, I never asked for this!” The tense grip around my throat increases its violent talent; never before have I felt a polo shirt ache me so.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me young man; in the presence of your teacher of all places! Apologize for you behaviour this instant! My stars, this attitude of yours is appalling, when did this sudden delinquent behaviour begin? Is this to do with that boy you said you were talking to on the phone? Is he a peer-pressuring you into missing classes?”

“THIS HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH REINER- YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO ME- YOU NEVER DO!”

Voiceless I remain, even when I scream.

“Stop getting upset here Bertolt, we can figure this out, we can talk this through, give you a little break, perhaps you are stressed with the course workload on top of West Side Story- I heard your partner just had an accident too-“ My father intervenes, though his voice is decorated in a much calmer masquerade, it’s obvious who’s side he’s taking- the side of making themselves happy all while making me miserable.

“I QUIT! I AM NEVER STANDING ON THAT STAGE EVER AGAIN- DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” I can feel the scorching heat in my face; my mouth aches and ears ring from my own volume. The secretaries across the call, the benighted students passing by, perhaps they can all hear my wobbling war-cry, “MOM, DAD, THANK YOU FOR TRYING BUT I _REALLY_ CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE- I CAN’T- CARRY ON HATING MYSELF FOR BEING TOO SCARED TO TELL YOU TO TRUTH! PLEASE- PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!”

 

When I was seven my parents and I went on vacation to the South coast, they always have had a crisper form of sunshine; I forget sometimes that we’re all part of one single connecting mass of land. We’d travelled to San Diego Zoo for a casual day excursion, I was too young to remember it for the most part, I couldn’t tell you what I saw or if I even enjoyed my time there. I presume in my childish innocence I would have relished at the idea of seeing such beautifully creative creatures in the way flesh: they present themselves, the way they eat their food and rest about the grass- yeah, that sort of bliss would have had my double-knot sneakers clipping against the walkways with an unmatchable pace or excitement.

I do recall one event of the day however, I don’t think I can ever forget _that_ no matter how old I become, in this current disposition of parental dissatisfaction anyway. Like at many family establishments, one of the most obvious yet clearly successful ways of attracting more income is by incorporating a gift shop by the park’s main exit. My parents had granted seven-year-old Bertolt the thrill of picking a novelty to take home; it was a family vacation after all.

 

_“Why don’t you pick out a cute plush friend for the car-ride home Bertie?”_

That seemed appropriate, pleasant even.

My eyes were attracted instantly by one in particular; it was small and bright and made up of a mass of fluffy apricot fur. A red panda, I’d seen a few of them in the park, found them fascinating in their playful nature and apparent soft features- they looked kind and their tails reminded me of the cleaning brushes my Mom would hand me when she would ask if I wanted to play house with her. Back then I didn’t mind innocently chiming out a little Mary Poppins tune, back then it wasn’t so serious, so life-altering.

_“Oh Bertie you don’t want that one, here what about this lion?”_

This was bizarre to me as a small child, it still is actually. What parent would purposefully attract their child towards a far more expensive material position, one which would most likely be lost amongst the hoarded community of other stuffed animals inside the bright, hanging storage nets back home?

_“Come on honey don’t you want the best one? One that’s much more like you? See, lions are the kings of the jungle, they rule over all of the other animals, they are the ones everyone comes to see- lions are the best.”_

But I didn’t want to be the lion.                                                                                         

I still don’t.

 

“…Well… I suppose that’s that then.” Mom shuffles sheepishly the seat, her posture remains tensed, though now I can tell she’s finally given in, “We’ve always wanted what’s best for you, that’s all. We never did this to hurt you.”

“I know… but you just don’t understand what the ‘best’ for me is.”

I’m sorry mother, I really am.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person to achieve the dream you never were able to. I’m sorry I’m the one who halted your aspirations in the first place.

I’m sorry for letting you down.

This is all what I should be telling her- the both of them in fact- but I guess much like all the other things I take part in throughout my life, I’ll wait so moronically long until the declaration is rendered meaningless… or disastrous… or both.

Yes, I’m sorry for letting you down- but I can’t carry letting myself down for any longer.

 

“… Right, well, I guess if this is really what you want- then I, well we should get going.” Gracefully she stands from her chair, the process slow though she uses this time to try mask the hand she brings up to wipe the tears in the corners of her eyes. I shouldn’t feel so horrific about telling the truth, but my stomach churns all the same.

“Come on Bertolt, we’d best go and clear out everything from your dorm room if you won’t be studying here any longer. We have the finances to settle too. I’m sorry- for wasting your time like this professor- and for disrupting you in your office.”

Ah yes, the question of where I shall live, what I shall do.

Will I be made to return home to Scarsdale, I suppose it’s not too far? Though, do I really want to leave this city?

I mean, for all it’s worth, for what it represents and for all the pain it has caused me, it’s still where all of my friends are. It’s still where Reiner is. I think, for now at least, it is where I want to be.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. But, Mr and Mrs Hoover… if I may, could I please have a moment alone with your son?”

What?

Levi’s words catch me off guard. Sure, I’ve been painfully aware of his presence within the room throughout the entirety of the convocation, but in no way was I prepared to manage a one-on-one convocation with the man.

In a jarred fashion I descend back into my chair, the click of the door shutting behind my parents signifying an instant and overpowering feeling of nervous anxiety. What does he want me to say? Should I apologize for leaving? I mean, I suppose I have rather screwed the guy over with only the shorter end of two months left before the West Side Story production, still, he has always known how much I have disliked my situation…

“No Anita… and now no Bernardo.” He starts plainly and my eyes drop down to spot his hands gracing absently around his empty coffee mug, as if it’s functioning as some sort of distraction from the cumbersome energy engulfing the two of us either side of his desk, “Suppose I can’t _beg_ you to stay?”

 

Professor Levi has always been a peculiar character to me, plain yes, in his vocation for intimidation that is- though I’m not sure if that is entirely purposeful however- or if his frightening features only stretch as far as his thin, dipping brows and flat-lined lips. Despite my undeniable interest as to his true intentions sometimes, he is still my teacher, so I don’t feel it my place to judge his life or his means of presenting himself, not when all he’s done for me the past year and a half is try and help me find some interest in a topic I clearly despised, rather than leave me to rot alone and loose my own mind.

Now though, within such close proximity of the man, us together all alone, I can’t help but take in his current appearance for what it is, tired. His eyes a red-rimmed, in fact I don’t think I’ve seen him without some form of caffeine in his position for at least a week. Overall he looks like he’s trying, succeeding somehow, though still he looks inescapably pained.

It’s not in my nature to ask him about Eren, though I’m sure he must know everything by now; the fight at the bar, how he pushed Jean into the scaffolding in the auditorium. Perhaps if Eren wasn’t Levi’s, well whatever he is- Godson I suppose- maybe he would have had no reason to borrow the auditorium for band practice that one afternoon at the beginning of term, then I wouldn’t have heard him or the others singing, I wouldn’t have met Reiner, he wouldn’t have given me the courage to finally quit theatre for good.

I wonder how Levi feels about the boy who lives under his same roof, the boy he feeds and supports and loves- at least I hope- knowing full-well that same boy seems to be the recurring cause of all his piling troubles, the reason his work all appears to be getting torn down around him and the reason he looks as if he hasn’t slept more than five hours in what must be days.

 

“I’m sorry sir… but I’ve got to do this for myself.”

He nods at that, slow and understanding, and if I’m not mistaken his lips turn up just a fraction. I almost want to return the gesture out of pure selfless pity alone.

“I respect that, I do.” Is all he says, standing, that clearly being my queue to excuse myself and so I follow, making my way over to the door. It’s not until my hand hovers over the handle does he open his mouth again, “Sorry, just- I wish you the best of luck Bertolt, in whatever you choose to do. I hope that you will find something which makes you happy, truly.”

“Thank you Professor. And, not to be impertinent but, well… given everything that has happened as of late… I hope you can find happiness too.” I smile softly and open the door, stepping out into the hall to leave him alone before I even have a chance to take in his response. In doing so I grant him the ability to decide for himself what to do in this situation- what to make of my words- in the same way he has allowed me to experience a freedom of my own for what feels like the first time in my entire life.

We all deserve some privacy in deciding our own lives after all.

 

 

 

**Mikasa**

 

I hate the cold.

It’s damp and it stings the skin and wearing more than two layers worth of clothing over your body is far too tediously uncomfortable to even describe with mere metaphors alone.

In retrospect, some may presume it to be wiser for me to say ‘I hate the winter’ as opposed to the cold itself, because the very concept of something being chilly isn’t necessarily bad thing. For instance, Ice-cream is cold. That’s always nice.

Then again I feel as if I can forgive ice-cream for its freezing properties, because ice-cream has sugar inside and sugar makes the brain tick and the blood flow. The gravel-ridden slush littering the sidewalks on the other hand, well that only makes a person slip and slide and the entirety of their problems seem almost too heavy to keep under control. The cold lacks any form of forgiveness. The cold doesn’t send you a condolence card for ruining your day and it definitely can’t be served decorated with crushed hazelnuts and chocolate sauce.

But I suppose if we really are going to be technical about the subject, then I guess I could say in reality that it is the winter season that truly makes my stomach churn. Or at least this year it seems to be.

Yes, usually find joy in this time of year, the trivial pleasures: hot coco, crackling fires, Sasha and I even got matching red and blue scarves last year- she’s into all that corny Mary-Kate and Ashley bullshit and I just can’t say no when she’s pulling that ridiculous pouting face of hers. These whimsical pleasures however, no matter how happy they can make someone for a short period of time, they’re never truly eternal, and as soon as the festive magic fades away we will all find ourselves feeling a whole lot worse then we may have done in the first place.

One could have a handful of problems overpowering them in the blazing summer, but still the sun shines and the birds sing with each waking day instead of squawking in gluttonous anxiety amongst icy branches and snowy sheets. It’s the little mundane aspects of nature, they may appear minuet and forgetful for the most part, but they really do a great job as momentary mood-boosters in the same way a strong espresso produces an intense burst of adrenalin for whoever consumes it. So I guess you could call me a sucker for the summer, but that’s only because all worries do appear a little less toxic when your entire surroundings looks like a physical metaphor for Katrina and The Waves, ‘I’m Walking on Sunshine’.

Winter only personifies any troublesome or dangerous affairs to an insanely gross degree. Winter makes your problems become shrouded within an icy blanket apparently incapable of being tossed aside.

I think now- only when my life seems to have become rendered ridiculously disheartening in nature- my eyes have opened to this truth of our world. Now I can see how clearly false any pleasantries of the winter period actually are, the hot drinks, the warm fires, the darn matching scarves- it’s all bullshit when you strip it down to the bone. The Christmas lights wrapping the trees are false, the candles have to be produced with the hands of man; all forms of light are artificial… there just isn’t any sunshine anymore.

 

Eren… he was my constant sun.

I could cope with him by my side, things may have seemed hard sometimes yet they remained manageable whenever Eren was there and I truly do believe I worked in the same way for him; a corresponding collection of cogs turning in compassionate harmony with one another- an equally balanced relationship.

Even though Eren has never really been around for the summer, I’ve still felt him in spirit. During the hottest months I could look up at the blue sky and see his smile and I could feel the scorching rays of sun on my skin just like his gentle touch against my body. I can hardly remember a time without Eren in my life. Eleven years, that’s how long I have known him and how long I have loved him, and in all that time the only periods of space when we have ever truly been apart is when he’s been away in the summer. They have become difficult on occasion, easier with time for sure; I’m not inept of functioning without him, though the others will constantly tease otherwise. But just because I can manage, doesn’t mean I like it.

The summer- though lonely at times- has been kind to me; perhaps I should be worried that I seem to find most of my recent enjoyment to have been when the person I love was on the other side of the world.

But is Eren really to blame for any of that? I mean, I was the one who broke it off… I can only scrutinise myself for any emotional turmoil I find myself in as of late. And now, plain for everyone to see, not only have I succeeded in disregarding my own happiness for reasons I don’t even understand, but I’ve also trod upon the hearts of Eren, of Jean, of Ymir, maybe some of the others too. Everyone seems to be accusing Eren of craving his own destruction, though I’m starting to wonder if I’m all that much different.

 

I hate the winter season because it is cold. But I hate the summer because that’s when I’m without Eren. I have no means of changing either of these occurrences, the weather is natural, I can’t shift or shape it to my will. Eren leaving for Botswana, less natural in a sense, but still impractical to avoid, the travelling makes him happy… him being happy makes me happy.

 I suppose now I’ve just answered my own question, one constantly circulating around my brain looking for some other excuse that I can use as an escape route, even though I already do know the singular answer- nothing is ever perfect, you can’t maintain a state of harmony if all aspects of your life are completely faultless, the same way you can’t if everything takes the complete opposite direction to the one intended.

I guess the phrase ‘too much of a good thing’ is an accurate one after all.

I know things can never be perfect, so why did I every try and pretend that they were? I shoved away Eren’s panics, his fears that there was something going on between Jean and me. I played his questions off as ridiculous and unnecessary and put them under lock-and-key like they were never there at all, as if everything was just as perfect as it was before the summer. We grew a drift between us in his absence, not a drift capable of explaining with one singular occurrence, more so it seems a sudden realisation of displeasure of ones lifestyle. Eren seems to have theses break-downs a lot, when he is thinking about his parents- real parents- I just wish I knew of some way to help him carry on forward once and for all.

I have tried in the past, unsuccessfully it would seem. I guess the wedge between us has just grown far too wide and uncontrollably volatile; like some deep and fast-moving current of water separating the two of us… it appears I’ve just been foolish enough to think I could cross it without first building a bridge.

 

“Hey baby you can sit on this Santa’s lap any day!”

“It’s November, Asshole.” I acknowledge the vile man in a hasty manner, quickening my pace to make as much distance between the two of us as possible. It’s bad enough Time Square is seemingly littered with Olafs and Elsas throughout the rest of the year, but to have a horde of sleazy, half-baked Santa Clause’ while it’s only a week into November is too much even for the most festive of folk to tolerate.

Oh well, at least I’m only a few blocks away from campus now, and I’m not about to let one crude jerk wreck my only period of alone-time this morning.

Well actually, ‘alone-time’ is probably not the most accurate way of describing it. Thousands of people passing me at once, crowds upon crowds almost shoulder-to-shoulder; business savvy ladies and gentleman in three-piece-suits with high-tech bluetooths connected to their ears, wild packs of giddy tourists, trigger-happy with their cameras and taking pictures of anything and everything- blissfully unaware of any sidewalk congestion they may be causing; all people from all walks of life creating almost deafening volumes of noise. That, along with the countless thuds of music from different stores, the constant death choir of cab horns chiming, and the blinding advertisement billboards of everything from 60’s-style steakhouses to the most classic of Broadway shows- yeah, it really does make it hard for one to find peace and quiet in order to collect their thoughts.

Annie does keep hounding me about not getting the subway campus, though that’s just because she is under the impression that the ten-minute walk from Hell’s Kitchen to Broadway is just ‘too strenuous before the double-digit hours of the day’ and that by this time she ‘deserves’ to nestle her ass into a seat, even if said-seat is next to some old lady who’s natural scent resembles that of a ham and Brie bagel.

No, I enjoy my walking time, where I can be alone with my thoughts- what to do- how to figure everything out, how to figure Eren out- Eren- Eren?

“Eren!”

His head darts round in an instant of my call, his eyes frantic and startled and taking two steps rapidly forward towards me and one back in nervous composure before he replies,

“Mi-Mikasa hi-“

It breaks my heart, how nervous he is. I’m part of what caused all of this, all the fights, Ymir’s accident, I can’t help but feel responsible… perhaps if I’d never pushed him away so far, then he wouldn’t have fallen off the edge of reason all together.

“How- how are you doing?” I try to sustain the anxious disposition within my voice, though right now it’s still rather difficult to comprehend the fact that he’s actually stood in front of me right now, face-half deep in the fur of his parka, eyeing me worriedly in the middle of the footpath just between the 7th and West 48th intersection.

In hindsight it’s a ridiculous question for me to even offer up in the first place, especially considering the red-rims scorching his eyes and the anxious kick of his heals against the pavement.

“Um- I-“ He stammers, his eyes flicking up towards the fur bandana on my head, “I got you that.”

 

I remember the exact day he did, senior year, a huge blizzard had hit the city rather suddenly, Eren and I had gone out to see this rather hilarious little show called Soul Doctor after Erwin and Levi both had to attend an emergency work meeting and didn’t want their two tickets to go to waste. Eren, though disgruntled, did enjoy himself like he always does at these sorts of things. Though I know he would never allow Levi the satisfaction of becoming aware of the fact he did find amusement in such show productions. The storm had started rapidly while we were inside; once the show was over we became trapped at the station for hours while the train back to Tarrytown was delayed, and let’s just say our thin jackets were not exactly the best form of protection against the extreme level of moist and spine-chilling drops of snow hurtling down onto us from seemingly all directions. My ears were a bright numbing red, so much so I was frightened they were ripe to drop off and no matter how much a tried to rub some heated friction into them they still remained utterly intolerable. That was when Eren- the life-saver he was took it upon himself to buy us both these matching furry brown bandanas from some wacky, Lily Tomlin-esque elderly lady selling a handful of them by the street corner. It wasn’t much, we were still stuck freezing our asses off, but despite all that, the real reason I find such comfort in still wearing the token memory is because of how it reminds me of what followed.

By the time we _finally_ made it back to Eren’s house both our bodies were drenched from head-to-foot, ice-cold water tangling our dripping hair and clothes which desperately needed to be removed before either of us ended up with a serious case of the flu. In a blinded and giggling panic the two of us darted for the warmth of the family room where we stripped ourselves free over everything but our underwear while Eren set ablaze the fireplace and I secured the both of us the blankets draped lazily over the couch. In a fit of laughter and frantic hugs of warmth Eren booted up the stereo and out came cascading some cheesy mellow reggae song seemingly loud enough to wake the entire street.

Laughing heavily and pure, he took my hand into his, his other gracing round my hip, and dropped his head against mine, swaying the both of us slowly in the middle of the generously orange-lit room.

_“We've been together for a while now, growing stronger everyday now, feel so good and there is no doubt- I will stay with you.”_

The whole event was so ridiculously spontaneous and such a spur-of-the-moment expression of affection; half-naked, and shivering dancing slowly and without any key purpose of motivational movement, our bodies simply intertwining delicately with one another, his head dipping down to whisper to me- the simplistic sweet-nothings of the song lyrics- between the gently passionate course of his lips gracing over my neck and collar-bone. In that moment I felt completely and utterly loved, my undivided attention focused directly on the way he held onto me, on the words his sang,

_“Oh I will stay with you, through your ups and your downs, I will stay with you, when no one else is round, when the dark clouds are grey, I will stay by your side and I know we’ll be all right… I will stay with you.”_

 

“Yeah… it’s already a cold winter.”

I find myself dipping my head down in emotional fondness of the memory, pondering whether or not Eren is thinking about that same evening too. Oh, as cliché as it sounds I wish we could have stayed in that moment for all of eternity, not just because it made me so incredibly happy but because if we were to remained isolated inside that one pleasant event… well then we wouldn’t be where we are right now, nervous and stammering, in some ways terrified of confronting one another at all.

“Well, I should get going.” Eren points his fingers out past me towards the direction he was originally headed, to where I have no clue, though by his nervous disposition I’m not really sure he knows himself either, “I- um- I assume you are on your way to class, I, well, I wouldn’t want you to be late…”

“Why don’t you come with me? It’s been a long time since you showed up to a practical session.”

“I uh- aha- I can’t be there- with you I mean- not like this…” One of Eren’s arms dart up to his other, rubbing his fingers up and down his forearm nervously, his head beginning to shake from side-to-side.

With me, what does he mean he can’t be there with me?

“Eren it doesn’t _have_ to be like anything- I don’t care about what happened with Jean and Ymir.” I plead the truth; I gave up on worrying about Jean the moment I saw him throw Eren down against that table back at the bar. No, no I shouldn’t have forgot about Eren, shouldn’t have played his behaviour off as simple jealousy and gone cushioning over to Jean’s side.

I need to make up for this; somehow, I just have to get through to him, to break this protective barrier of his down-

“No! I uh- I really can’t do this - not now, no no this is not right-“

“Eren please talk to me- I am trying here! I want to move past this, I really do!”

“No no no you don’t, you are just _pitying_ me! It’s what you all do, you all feel sorry for me that’s all you do!” His breath becomes frantic and shaking and quickly he makes his way to the wall of the corner-shop beside us, out the way of the incoming floods of passers by. He places each of his hands against the wall and breathes in and out heavily through his nose, is eyes scrunched shut painfully as if he’s close to being sick-

“It’s not like that Eren I want to help you, you need to talk to someone… this- depression, it is getting out of hand-“ I beg, following and extending my hand out to rub over his trembling back, thankfully no one ever has time to stand still for a moment in this city, this panic attack he is having really would be hard to explain,

“ ‘ _Depression_ ’?” He frowns, twitching his head up from the floor to look me straight in the eyes, “That’s what you think this is? You do, you think I’m going crazy- you think that I’m weak and pitiful and jealous and _angry_ -“

“Eren-“

“-And you know what the worst part of it all is?” His voice is sharp and agitated, his jaw wobbling and fingernails digging into his hands as he resurfaces from the wall, “I _know_ I am, it’s true I am all of those things and that’s why I can’t do ‘ _this_ ’ with you right now. I can’t because I’m in love with you and- I can’t have you see me like _this_ …”

 

*

 

The bath faucet drips with almost military precision, though this occurrence seems almost common, the handle always has been rather slack.

I’m not even sure I can remember what happened as I made my way back home to the apartment; all I know is that I had become rather incapable of attending lesson after my chance meeting with Eren. He’d made a hasty exit for the nearest cab in sight after his confession of self-hatred, rendering me vulnerable and immobile for a long period of time. Helplessly I had called out to him, though I think through my pleas and begging I knew that he wouldn’t return to me, too far lost for a simple early-morning relationship resurrection, I was foolish to think I could get him back in such a half-hearted manner.

He needs time.

I’m just terrified of giving it to him for much longer.

Sighing out shakily, I lift my hand out the luke-warm bath water, twisting my hand round delicately to observe the palm, the droplets of water flickering down the creases of skin in a jarred and disorderly manner. Through each droplets reflection of light I spot different wavering colours. It may only be a bathroom but it is quite possibly the pride-and-joy of mine and Annie’s entire apartment.

_“If people are going to have to shit in here we can at least make it look pretty.”_

That was both our motto during the lengthy process of decoration. We’d settled upon virtually no colour scheme in particular, rather a barnyard-explosion of deep pinks and greens and blues and oranges on everything from the shower curtain to the mix-matched towels and the spotty bathmat, a party for the eyes and nightmare for the hungover. It’s essentially as if a diabolical rainbow has blown chunks all over the place… but at least it’s very us.

Only after I drop my hand back down into the water with a satisfying splash do I hear the echo of a knock against the lazily-painted pink door,

“Hey… Mikasa-“ Annie calls from the other side, her tone casual but reluctant, “I know you’re in the tub but I’m like dying for a piss, can I come in?”

“Uh… yeah, sure…” I stammer, hastily wiping at my eyes and nose but not bothering to collect any of the scattered remaining bubbles atop the water into an organised fashion before the handle comes down.

Annie opens the door and steps inside with odd caution, her eyes meeting mine as she closes us both in with the push of her back against the door behind her. Then, pulling herself back up, she continues her glance, her hands fidgeting at her sides and shrugging her shoulders meekly.

“You look red in the face.” I view slackly, pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms round my knees.

“Well it is cold out…”

“I don’t mean that kind of red.” I snort and her face curls up into a mocking grin at me keen observation.

“Oh, yeah I may have been- well you know-”

“Here? You just got in?”

“No, with that guy Duke in apartment 4-E, he’d told me he had these neat strings for my violin back at his place.” He is pretty cute I suppose, in a 2010 Brendon Urie kind of way that is, though last time I saw the guy taking out his trash he did have a septum piercing and I can’t get behind that.

“Have fun?”

“Okay- I guess… though he did have some freaky deal with my ears. Yeah, I don’t think that it’ll become a ‘thing’. He also wouldn’t shut up about the new Terminator movie, like buddy; I really couldn’t give two craps about Arnold what’s-his-face to be honest. But I suppose I got the violin strings…”

Her words seem to deteriorate off and she settles for chewing at the inside of her cheeks in a nonchalant manner, glancing round at small bathroom awkwardly: from the door, back down to me in the bathtub, round to the toilet behind her.

“Go on then, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” I gesture, it wouldn’t be a first -

“Yeah… that was a lie. I could hear you sniffling from the other side of the door so I thought I’d be a good person and come check on you.”

Her words catch me off-guard and I draw my hand up sharply to my face- oh, so I guess it was too obvious to try hide.

“…I’m fine.” I shake off, leaning over the bath to grab hold of some body wash and squirting a portion into my palm, anything to take me away from the impending deep convocation I can feel brewing.

“Well, I guess I’ll just take a seat here,” Annie sighs flippantly, dropping down onto the closed toilet and resting her chin into her hands, “I wonder how long it’ll take for your skin to get all prune-y and cold in the water, why don’t we find out? I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Why that sly girl-

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, giving up on the distraction of washing my body and turning my head to face her, “I saw Eren on my way to campus today, that’s all.”

She stares a moment, blinking a few times as if she’s expecting me to say something more, though continues ahead when she judges my reluctance to discuss the topic at hand,

“And? Is he doing okay, still think you’re bumping and grinding with Space Odyssey’s Keir Dullea?”

“What does that even mean? Yes- no, I don’t know he just looked so- _broken_.” I murmur, my head dropping down towards the cloudy ripples of water encasing me, “It hurt to see… it just, it reminded me that I never want to see him sad, not ever… “ I finish slowly, sniffling once more, bringing my hands up to rub over my face, pushing my wet hair back over my head.

“Well yeah of course it hurts to see him like that, you love him for Christ’s sake!” Annie practically shouts, the volume surprising me enough to remove my hands from my face to look at her again with close curiosity, “Yeah don’t look so shocked, I know you still have feelings for him; I’m not a fucking idiot.”

I can’t help my crack a small smile at her blunt attitude. Annie may not be the best person to come to when in need of kind-natured comfort, but at least she will tell me the truth without simply lying to try make you feel better.

“Listen, I know I’ve said some shit to you about Eren before, said he’s not worth the time of day for the hell he’s caused you. But still, I know you love him to Neptune and back, _and_ I know he feels the same way about you. That’s why he always acts like such a raging lunatic all the time; I suppose that’s just his way of showing that he cares. It’s stupid, admittedly, but it’s obvious his intentions are good.”

“But _he’s_ not even the problem- I am.” I sigh, shoving my hands out in front of me, “I am so _so_ stupid… I forgot he needed me, that I needed to give him attention too.”

Annie pauses a moment, collecting herself before leaning forward towards me, her stance strong and determined. It’s at times like this when I am reminded of how narrow-mindedly some people view Annie to be, simply shrug her off as harsh or sarcastic with no room for a middle-ground. It’s not true however; Annie cares about her friends, it’s clear to see. Example, despite her keenness to get him drunk, she really does care about Armin’s well-being, him being the younger one of the lot of us after all. I know I can trust Annie with whatever she is going to tell me, she wouldn’t lie simply to protect my ego, if I‘m in need if a scolding I know she will tell me how she thinks so I can hopefully set myself back on the right track.

“It’s not ‘stupid’ to crave things outside of a relationship you’ve spent virtually your entire life consumed within. You have never known anyone outside of Eren in such an intimate way, you could have forgotten how to distinguish him between your boyfriend every other casual occurrence in your day-to-day life. And Eren, well Eren could have forgotten to, ya know? Forgotten that a David Bowie song between friends and the fact that sometimes you and Jean just like to go to the movies alone because everyone else hates 3D glasses- well that it doesn’t really mean anything, not like your feelings for Eren anyway. That _passion_ , well it’s on a whole other level then the way you feel about Jean, or your folks or the way you feel about me, it’s like you think of each other as these omnipotent beings who cannot be reckoned with. It seems you both just forgot that the other was human, that you could feel things that can’t easily be deciphered simply because you’ve been together for so long. Fuck, just because you’ve been dating for what feels like forever, it doesn’t mean you stop talking about shit, or stop asking about how each other’s day was- and _actually_ care about the answer, instead of just saying it because well, ‘ _that’s what you always do’_. So really I think… that you both need to just take a step back, properly this time, and evaluate.”

 

Her words float around in my mind even after she finishes, the both of us pausing to process her meaning, giving me the time to understand everything she has said, the truth of her bathroom speech.

She’s right, I have neglected Eren. He just became such a usual part of my life I acted like nothing could possibly ever be wrong with us because- well because it’s always been so good in the past. I forgot how negatively influenced he can become, how his emotions can get the better of him if the painful memories of his mother resurface and become too much for him to handle. It is all well-and-good me believing he can just push those negative thoughts aside, but it’s not as if Eren really has control of such mental trauma, it’s not something he can simply forget about after all.

“I mean, do you want to be with him?” Annie mumbles through biting at her thumbnail nervously. My response however is a far lot more emotional, I find myself gasping out painfully a hidden compilation of compressed emotion I didn’t even know I was hiding,

“…It’s all I ever want.” I grieve, my neck craning out and dropping down in defeat of what I may have lost.

“Then _want_ to know what’s troubling him. Don’t pretend like he’s fine just because everything feels normal to you. I mean, just because you both might go for your daily coffee fix at the canteen like you do everyday, doesn’t mean that he isn’t hurting on the inside. Eren is complex and intelligent and far too troubled to handle himself on his own, but he thinks that’s what makes him a hassle to be around. It doesn’t- it makes him human. He wants love, he needs it like we all do- don’t think just because you’ve been holding his hand or kissing him that he can feel the same emotions every time. Because if you do that mushy stuff like hug him or stroke his hair- it doesn’t mean jack shit if you shake all those moments off as casual affairs and then ditch him for some other person like Jean.”

“…You’ve lost me I’m sorry.”

“You love him. So don’t treat him like some easy chore!” Annie stands swiftly, her hands extending out either side of her as if that could possibly make her objective any clearer to me, though, I think now I can understand what she means.

No more neglecting, no more running way. Time to treat Eren the way I used to when we were young and the feelings were still fresh, to treat him with respect like the equal half of me that he is.

“That’s gotta be why Eren was so self-conscious about you spending time with Jean and caring about the whole situation with his dad getting deployed n’all- he thought that he was just a part of your life that you _had_ to do, while all your emotional attention was focused in on wanting to be with Jean.”

“I don’t want to be with Jean, that’s never even crossed my mind- even subconsciously- it was never my intent to give him that impression.”

“Well you know what then? Tell Eren that. I mean, you’ve told him plenty enough that you’re not cheating on him with the Undercut-Stallion, but you’ve never actually told him that _he_ is what you want either.”

She’s right I haven’t.

I- I’ve been so caught up in how frustrated I’ve been with Eren because he thought I would cheat, that I’ve never actually reaffirmed to him that I do, deeply, truly… love him-

I do- I-

“I-I love him-“ My voice breaks out into a small sob and quickly I bring my hand up to cover my mouth, tears beginning to sting at the inner corner of my eyes once again, “I don’t want to _loose_ him anymore… I just want- to- to be together again-“

Annie, noticing, hurries to crouch down at the side of the bath. Without so much as thinking I throw my arms over her shoulders and bury my face into her neck, letting out a loud and ungodly whine.

“Shh, come on ‘Kasa, shh-“ Annie coos, patting softly at my wet back, her body is stiff and most-likely ridiculously uncomfortable in this position, moreover no-doubt irked that I’ve now practically rendered her top soaking wet, though she remains silent all the same,

“ _I love him_ -“ I cry again, my body shaking in painful heartbreak within the now cold bath, my grip unwavering from Annie as if she’s my only means of life support.


	21. Act 2: Jean / Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates, though I hope this chapter is worth the wait, some underlying questions finally answered! 
> 
> I've had the dialog for this chapter ready for months now, I really wanted to be sure I got Levi's backstory the way I wanted it- I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Here's the link to the cute song Jean and Armin were dancing to- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Cav-204b94
> 
> and here is the song Ash and Levi have on in the car- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVMvART9kb8

**Jean**

 

“Oh _god_ it’s all cold and sticky, urgh-“

“Jean just shut up and put it in already! You wanted to do this!”

“Babe, this is not what I had in mind!”

“Jean just put your foot in the paint already!”

Reluctantly, I drop my second foot down into the turquoise bucket under me, now both my feet are submerged fully in glossy red and blue.

 

After being unsuccessful into coxing Ymir out of her immovable stance of having me perform with Historia for the Thanksgiving dance recital, Armin had been happy enough to teach me- properly this time- his surprisingly extensive knowledge of the tango and how to move my body in a way which doesn’t mimic that of someone going into a sizable cardiac arrest. Rather successfully too if I do say so myself, I seem to really be getting the hang of it.

What I hadn’t banked on however, was Armin deciding to make the most of today’s training session by producing a new, vastly decorative piece for the ‘Art of Sound’ module in his painting class. With each of our feet decked-out in fluorescent colour and having pushed aside most of the desks and stools in the art studio, laying out a ridiculously wide spread of thick paper, and rolling it from one end of the sizeable room to the other; the plan seems that our movements should creative a decorative mural of patterned footprints that Armin can later fix up and do with what he wishes.

Despite the congealing, cold liquid irritating between my toes and rising anxiousness that accompanies every time I try and dance with Armin- even more so with the absolute perfection needed to not make his innovative below our feet turn into a complete disaster- I can’t help but admire the rather romantic foreplay at hand whilst consumed by the room’s dimmed lighting and slow hum of Libertad Lamarque’s ‘ _Tabaco_ ’ emulating from the stereo.

Well… actually, ‘foreplay’ was possibly one of the least appropriate synonyms I could use currently. It’s not that I’m in any rush to be, well, intimate with Armin… I’m happy enough with the pace things are, perhaps it is wiser we do slow down after how fast everything else seems to be happening around us, and I do enjoy simply kissing him…

Connie- when he deemed it acceptable to begin talking to me after the jerkish comment I made about his relationship with Sasha- had joked that I must be getting blue balls already; thankfully Reiner was quick to defuse that one by preaching ‘banging someone isn’t the only way to be happy’.

Realistically, it’s most likely a better move to wait it out for a while, the last thing I should be having right now is a distraction. The recital only a few weeks away, everyone else, all those proper dancers, they’ve all been preparing for this event since before the school year even started, there is absolutely no way I’m _not_ going to look like an ass out there unless I drill what I can into my head quick. I need to have a clear mind about this, concentrate, abide by some much-too-apparent High School Musical reference in order to do a good thing for Ymir. If I can do this, well then hopefully it’ll show the others that I _can_ be responsible for my own actions after all; perhaps then things won’t be so tense between all of us. Even though it seems I have no chance of getting that contract in California back within my grasp after all the stunts I’ve pulled, at least I can try and glue together some of the fractured glass between the relationships I’ve damaged through mine and Eren’s over-grown disputes.

 

It’s a while before Armin and I succeed in getting the hang of dancing with our feet becoming increasingly harder to pull away from the paper tarp beneath us; though Armin says the hassle will be helpful in teaching me to not be so heavy footed which has been my major fault so far if nothing else. Surprisingly, another rather bizarre technique that has helped me to maintain a solid rhythm and flow is actually just talking to Armin while we are dancing. Sometimes he chimes in with a new instruction or change of direction, but for the most part just a casual convocation about anything and everything draws my mind away from thinking to hard about what I am doing with my limbs and evidently screwing up the routine.

Some would probably be curious as to why I’m practicing with Armin at all, why not Historia? I am going to be performing with her the night of the recital after all. Evidently she is not the best teacher, nor would she be able to handle my previous lack of knowledge on the subject of the tango in the first place; so Armin decided it better if he taught me the basics before sending me in the petite girl’s direction to finalise the actual routine. Even more so it works as the perfect excuse to hear his voice.

 

“Are you gonna go to the Veterans Day parade?” Armin sparks up, readjusting his hand on my shoulder and spinning the two of us back round in a 180 to make our way up the floor again.

“I don’t usually get all patriotic about stuff like that-“ I let out awkwardly between shifting my head backwards to mind my steps and clutching onto Armin’s waist a little tighter for the support.

“Even with your dad? Left foot, change.”

“Right. Nah, I mean we can go if you like?”

“I just meant I’d go with you if you wanted to go; turn, back step, front ocho-“ Armin pivots his waist and instructs me to copy, “I know you must worry about him.”

“I’m cool, really. I mean of course I do, but I have faith in him. How about you, how’s yours?”

“My what?” Armin’s brows dip in a mixture of confusion and concentration at my fumbling feet between us.

“Your dad.”

Armin has a tendency to forget taking about himself, as if he puts his own personal issues on the back-burner at the expense of everybody else’s. I didn’t just bring up the topic out of nonchalant convocation, it’s just that I don’t want him to think that I don’t care about his own life because I do, very much so. Though I also have the impression he doesn’t see anything else back in England as much of an issue when he has Eren’s presence- or lack there-of- to contend with over this side of the pond.

“Grandma says he’s doing good, and apparently he and Mum have been seeing each other a lot more after work, they’ve been really pal-y as of late, it’s… weird.”

“ _Adults_ , always so confusingly melodramatic!” He laughs at the irony of that, how ridiculous it is to judge the methods of our parents social lives when our own seem about as taxing as a broken rubix cube since the beginning of term.

 

I only brought up the topic of him deciding to reach out to Eren once since he’d introduced the idea at the hospital the other day. It hurt, but only out of some sort of petty selfishness that he would contemplate giving the time of day to whom I was childishly labelling as my newly-instated mortal enemy. I know he wants to do the right thing really, I want to do it too if I can, though right now I still feel as if Eren has dug his hole too far deep that there is no way of me climbing out of it at any rapid haste.

_‘You talk to him if you want, just be warned he’s a little bit of a lost cause.’_

Armin told me that he didn’t say he wanted to talk to Eren out of spite, or to try make me feel bad about what happened to Ymir, more so that he’s getting worried that Eren needs help more than anything. Armin, though maybe not recently, still has known Eren for a much longer time then I have, and in his experience of the guy he notes Eren’s emotions tend to get the better of him (which I’ve obviously gathered), yet he also has a habit of bottling them up until they become almost too much for him to cope with. I- as ridiculous as it sounds for someone who was supposed to be one of his best friends- wouldn’t know that.

Eren just never used to talk about mushy stuff like that, he hardly ever mentioned his mom or his dad unless prompted, and even then he used to appear rather reluctant. In fact the only comments he ever really made about his parental situation where ones involving scalding anyone simply daring to call Erwin and Levi his parents.

I never understood that about Eren, why he would try so hard to push away the two of them despite how happy they clearly make him. It’s like he’s berating himself for being content with his life, like he doesn’t deserve to feel good about himself because his mom was never really able to feel that way, in the time her knew her anyways. His logic just seems so construed, like the complete counter-argument of my own way of perceiving things; I mean, I love my parents a bunch and I wouldn’t change them for the world- but I can’t help but admire how grossly protective Erwin and Levi are of Eren while still giving him the ample space to breathe and make decisions for himself.

They seem great for him.

It just makes me so frustrated that he can’t accept it.

 

Its Armin’s foot sliding back from underneath him that pulls me away from my drifting thoughts, his other giving in on the sudden balance shift and he comes falling hard down against my chest. In suspended shock, my own footing becomes unstable and I trip back onto the papered floor with an unfavourable squelch against the paint. Armin’s body on top of mine in a confusion of limbs and coloured paint staining our skin and clothes, and except from the art supplies and material between us, the whole situation strikes me with an almost freakish sense of deja vu.

“ _Ouch_ …You know,” I sigh out between small chuckles, pulling myself up with Armin in my lap, his red face shoved into neck in wonderful embarrassment at my impending mockery, “this is the second time now that you’ve fallen on top of me. I’m starting to think it’s all a little ploy to get close to me.”

“You wish Kirstein.” I feel his grin before he pulls his head up to face me, lifting his hand to flatten down a disorganized collection of paint-ridden hair sticking out from my head.

 “Sorry for messing up your painting.” I apologize watching his concentrating face and the way he curls together his lips as he continues to fix up my do.

“I’m the one who slipped.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right. Well, as penance then-“ I smirk, lifting my hand up to his nose and smudging a great green streak down the centre.

“HEY!” Armin laughs, screwing his face up before pulling his own hands up out my hair to cover my own face with the colourful liquid in revenge.

“You wanna fight twinkle-toes? Bring it!” I twist Armin round and pin him gently to the floor, hovering over him, digging my fingers into his sides in a daring tickle leaving him scrunched-eyed and cackling. The ecstatic noise he makes is like bathing in glitter; it’s bright, exciting, and full of a youthful life that leaves my heart pounding somewhat embarrassingly dramatically. Only when my playful barrage subsides do his eyes flutter open, his laughter fading away to a soft and enticed sigh, my smile remaining but eyes unblinking, captured by the glossy haze of his own. His cheeks are flushed, hair untied and dispersing out over the floor like a golden halo over his head.

All I can think to do is kiss him; it’s all I want to do- I proceed and I crush my lips against his own, in hindsight much rougher then I had previously intended, yet he corresponds all the same. I feel his hands rise up and curl into my hair and when he so much as just tugs at a strand I uncontrollably bite at his lip to which he sighs open-mouthed against my own. It’s not as awkward and filled with as much nervous tension as it was a couple of months ago when our lips first moved against one another’s; nor is it as unmannered and haste-ridden as when he was drunk. It’s honest and passionate and even though the paint kind of smells like the inside of a kindergarten classroom and is starting to become cracked and irritable against my skin, I feel like there is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be right now.

I think, yeah, even California. That recording contract, _god_ , I wanted it so much, I still do- I almost permanently ruined my friendship with the guys because of it.

And still, well all of that doesn’t really concern me anymore. Things _must_ happen for a reason; I get it now, I wasn’t supposed to meet with Ian that morning to get the record deal, I was supposed to meet with Ian that morning so that I could meet Armin.

I don’t need to go to California to be happy, I don’t need to get scouted by Shinganshina Entertainment to make my young-adult life anymore worth while; all that I want… no, that I _need_ \- well I think that it’s Armin.

 

 

**Levi**

 

_‘These little town blues, are melting away. I'll make a brand new start of it, In old New York’_

The framework is completely damaged; three of the top-row pillars are practically wood chippings as it stands, the foundations are unstable.

Everything will have to be replaced.  
  
Hell, is there even a point to do it anymore?

The production is supposed to be in a month. _A month_ and I’ve just lost two of my leads and my entire stage in one fellow swoop.

It was inevitable in reality, I was a fool to think that it wasn’t, blinded too intensely by my fears over that blasted E-mail, or now as it appears, E-mails. Relentless they are, increasingly harder to hide from Erwin. In hidden panics and mind-gnawing worries I neglected the fact that my students were struggling, for very different reasons yes, but struggling all the same.

Bertolt, he never wanted to participate, I knew that, and truthfully as bad as his timing may have been, I’m proud of the kid for finally having the balls to make the step forward for himself.

Now Ymir, well her issue was only partly avoidable, yes, logically speaking she never should have been climbing that scaffolding in the first place. The whole set-up was a recipe for a health and safety disaster yet she perused it all the same out of her vigorous and frankly foolish teen spirit. That was her real problem. The one that I, her teacher, should have warned her against. This industry is tough to crack, not everyone makes it, hundreds of people are left behind in the dust while tiny fractions of others succeed, even the best of people fail sometimes. I should have taught her not to bank her whole livelihood on the chance of achieving stardom, perhaps then when she fell the landing wouldn’t have been quite as harsh.

_‘If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere, It's up to you New York, New York’_

With one deep breath out my mouth I pull the phone from pocket and click pause on the music running through my earphones; then, with a final glance back at the broken stage, the broken opportunities, I pull the cords from my ears and shove them into my jacket pocket, spinning on my heels to return up the isle towards the auditorium exit.

Back to the drawing board I suppose, perhaps there is still something I can do to help out the rest of the class, I’d hate for their livelihoods to be soiled by something that wasn’t any of their doing, they’ve all worked too hard to not get anything back now.

I should be seething with rage at this moment if I had sense about me.

I told Eren, I told all those boys not to touch that stage. I don’t even understand what happened, apparently there was a fight, and again Eren knocked Jean around and wrecked another one of his friend’s futures in the process.

He won’t even talk to me now… not after what he said that night we had the argument. Erwin is still oblivious to the whole thing, probably best not to get him involved, he’ll only worry even more then he already does and he deserves to be happy, he’s too nice a person not to be smiling.

Or maybe that’s me being flippant, no, I don’t want Erwin to remain in the dark about all the shit that’s going on with Eren for the sake of his own mentality; he is a grown man. I just- I just need to see Erwin smiling… for myself… I think it might be the only thing that actually keeps myself sane.

Yeah, I can do this alone; I just need to figure out for myself how to help Eren if he’ll let me try.

 

Before I make it not three rows from the doors do they swing open, peering inside the all-too-familiar freckled teen, a little taller then Eren, much less volatile in presentation, though despite his fragile nature, his presence is enough to frighten me to the point of forgetting to breathe.

“Mr, uh, Professor Levi, I was hoping to catch you.” Marco starts awkwardly, stepping inside and closing the auditorium doors behind him.

I retract back a few steps in pure horrific surprise- not him- not now-

“Um- sorry, this is a closed campus Marco, you can’t-“ My mind struggles for an appropriate excuse to deter his presence, to remove myself from the situation _immediately-_

“I know, I just really wanted to talk to you.”

He’s so _oblivious_ to the truth- fuck- I’m going to be sick- I can’t be here- I can’t look at _him_ -

“I’m really- busywiththemusicalandeverything- sorry-“

“That’s what I came here to talk to you about. I heard about what happened to your Anita, and I’m really sorry, but, I also heard you lost your Bernardo. I was just wondering if you had a space available since you’re desperate-“

“That’s what understudies are for. Sorry, now I really have to-“

_Let me go._

“But surly you have something available! I’ll do anything to help, I know I can- I’m very familiar with West Side Story-“

I can feel my heart being crushed against my chest with every syllable he lets out, my lungs fill with toxic air and I can hardly retain a constant rhythm of breathing. I can feel the sweat congealing in my palms, the impending metallic taste of blood in my mouth from gnawing at my cheeks- my body shakes in spasms, please-

 _Please stop_.

“No Marco-“

“But you know that I’m good! You’ve heard me audition, please sir I can do this if you’d just give me a chance-”

“I SAID NO!” I find myself snapping, my eyes widen in affirmativeness, begging for him to understand message. He can’t be here- he just can’t-

His stance falters in disappointment, his face falling before contorting in annoyance and confusion intertwined. It’s the perfect opportunity to impose my escape and I rush past him for the exit, darting my hands from my pockets and extending them out to the door handle.

But I can’t be that easy can it? My hand still hovers over the handle when his words come pouring out and freeze me in my tracks. It’s the words I have dreaded hearing for years, the ones which I know will lead to the sour reality becoming exposed, answering all his unanswered questions … my vile truth revealed, and still almost all of me struggles to come to terms with it. I just can’t bring myself to let it out just yet… even though I know that I must.

 

“WHY DO YOU HATE ME?” His volume is immense, it makes my limbs stiffen and body retract back round to face him, “WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?”

Nothing.

Everything.

It’s not so much what this boy has done to me, instead rather what I have done to him. For years I tried to extinguish its unmoving presence, tried to cover it up under a thick layer of work and volunteering and Eren and Erwin and the _real life_ that I wanted.

How disgusting of me to believe I could ever truly hold onto that happiness forever.

 “Marco, I _don’t_ hate you-“

“Then why won’t you give me a chance? You ignore me at every turn, try act like I don’t exist! I kept it hidden from Eren all this time, that you said no to me, that you rejected my application before summer. I’m just as good as _anyone_ else in your class, _I_ know it, _you_ know it, that’s why you look so guilty isn’t it?”

I know he is right about one thing; he is good, brilliant even. Marco has a beautiful air about him, a talent most- if not all- of my students are constantly trying to achieve. He has such a subtle and light energy, a harmony of presence that it almost makes him seem like a mirage to behold. His voice is like amber too, warm and intoxicating like fine liquor only leaving much less of a bitter aftertaste. His voice is healing, he would be stunning on a stage, it’d clear minds and it’d cure phobias of ones self-hatred.  He would inspire so many people.

He would be extraordinary.

I can’t give that to him.

I don’t deserve to give that to him.

He wouldn’t want me to if he only knew.

 The fact that we are both aware of his talent only makes the whole situation intensely more unbearable. I have no clear-cut way of rejecting him. No good enough excuse to turn my back again like I’ve taught myself to do after so long. He’s trapped me in here, a place that I thought was safe, my own world away from him and away from home and away from any chance of the past invading my carefully elevated state of functioning.

But Marco has stepped over that line now, he has crossed over into my province, the one away from him and from police E-mails and from lying to the people that I love like I’ve always done.

I can’t recover from this, I can’t close the door on him again now or it’ll just come back to bite me with an even sharper venom.

It is time.

It has to be.

 

“Is it because I don’t come from the same background as all those other kids in your class? Because I’m not from some successful middle-class family? Because I don’t have a nice house or a nice bank account?”

“Of course not!” I scoff in an almost saddening way, making myself over to one of the isles of seats, dropping down into it as if the mere expulsion of physical weight from standing will make what I have to tell him any less difficult.

“Then tell me why, _please_ \- I need to know what I’m doing wrong!”

What if he tells Eren?

This has been my worst fear by far, the reason I withheld granting him the truth he deserves for as long as I have. He and Eren are close friends, there has been nothing I could do about it, and I couldn’t risk the idea of Eren or Erwin knowing the truth… I still can’t- and yet-

“Sit down Marco.” I instruct, he follows suit easily, his face turning from a form matching that of anger to more of one relating to confusion, not for much longer I suppose, “I got- I got something I ought to tell you, I should have told everyone really… a long time ago, before things turned out this way.” My breathe is so wobbly, impossible to tame no matter how much a try calm my pulse or cling onto the fabric of my trousers for pleading support, “The selfish attitude of human nature I suppose, once we get a taste for something good… we never really want to let it go.”

 

“I used to live in Pennsylvania as a kid, Dickson City. I went to High School there too… I was what some might call an average student academically, nothing at all that matched my brother Drake. But I was good at the arts- music and dance to be precise, I was rather nimble on my feet and I loved to act as well… Despite my passions however my mother was always far fonder of Drake's scientific mindset. She was determined to get my brother into medical school with all the money she could possibly muster. Paying for text books and tutoring and everything he would need to give him the best start it life. It was all that circled her mind, the pressing hope that he could get a scholarship and bag some big flashy job. Musical theatre just wasn’t ‘acceptable’ enough for a family struggling to pay the rent.

“I never knew my dad. Not exactly in the same way Eren doesn’t, more so that my mother didn’t exactly know who he was either and so she never bothered to find out; the three of us seemingly managed on our own.

“That was until Drake _did_ make it into University… He was off studying biochemistry while my Mom and I were left struggling to survive with what we had back in that shitty old house with its broken porch steps and useless heat-preserving windows.

“A ‘waste of space’ she would call me, said- said theatre just was my ‘petty distraction’ from finding a real job to help pay the rent. I did in the end, find a job, nearly flunked High School because of it, never went to college.”

I laugh so sourly at that memory I can feel my jaw aching at the forcefulness of it all. Shaking my head I let it fall back onto my chair to look up at the high, theatrical ceiling- I wish I’d admired the beauty of this place more… slowed down a little to smell the roses or whatever while I still had the chance.

I shouldn’t have foolishly taken everything for granted; shouldn’t have thought myself to be unbreakable like diamonds. I only did because that’s what I saw when I looked at Erwin and his boy- bright and _wanted_ and irreplaceably valuable, it was addictive.

But I’m not like them at all… I don’t have the right to be.

 

“I was working at this crummy car dealership when I met him. Marco it was 1990 and everything was all _exciting_ and new! The Berlin Wall was being brought down, The Simpsons first started airing on FOX… idiots were beginning to ponder their imitate death when the next ten-years rolled around- who knew what the 2000’s would have in store after all. But by far the most exciting thing for a twenty-something basket-case like myself, well it was the pleasure of having Ashley brought into my life.”

I thought Ashley was like diamonds too.

Though looking back, charcoal seems more appropriate.

“He was a tall guy, slender and thin; he wore his five-o’clock shadow like some statement fashion accessory and refused to even contemplate tying his drooping brown hair in any sort of ‘man-bun’ or whatever you kids call it. Ashley worked at the car repair shop across the street from the dealership and we’d often partner with them on jobs. I found out quickly that he and his band of misfit co-workers were all rather similar and incredibly exciting in nature- young, free-spirited, unapologetic to a ‘T’… I can remember staring out the office window on weekday nights watching all those guys busting their asses on all the different automobiles like there were of some different species together entirely _. I wanted to be with them_ , to have the laid-back attitude they did, to _belong_ to something, be part of a community with one collective goal to achieve a dream like I couldn’t do with theatre without the resources or opportunities I never got to have.

“It was Ashley who sought me out in the end. He uh- he’d been working late as I was closing up shop and told me he needed a hand with a ‘tight spanner’ or some bullshit like that. After we both succeeded in removing the valve and ended up in fits of laughter over our oil-sodden clothes, he asked me if I wanted to join him at this party across town. I was young and inexperienced, but all the same eager to try anything. I joined him, that night and all the others that followed. Ashley taught everything: what to drink and what not to drink, who to know and who to kick to the curb… he- uh- he held onto me… the first time we got high together.”

 

I can feel myself breaking at this point, the memories of Ashley still all too vivid and all _too real_ within my mind. Any remaining protective barrier I’ve forced up for so long finally falls down and lets Marco see the ugly truth behind his best friend’s stubborn wannabe-father.

He stays quiet does the boy, his face unreadable, his lips in a uniform line, obviously unnerved yet undeniably curious all the same. Even when I sit before him in my gradual break down, the man he’s only known for years to be emotionless and hard, it’s almost surprising how unfazed his is at my quivering lip.

“I-I wouldn’t say I was in love with Ashley, not really… more in love with the idea of what he was, what he represented. He was my rebellion in the flesh, my big old ‘fuck you’ to my unsupportive mother and my selfish brother and my unknowing father all alike, and I _relished_ in him.

“It was only a year or two before I left behind my blood-relations for good. I moved into this crappy two-by-four apartment with Ash; we could hardly even afford good food let alone beds to fit our mattresses. Still, at least I was finally free… well, stuck in the same old boring town- but yeah, I was changed, and what I thought was for the better.”

I wouldn’t really know what ‘better’ felt like for a long time after that. Now I do, I know what it truly means to be happy with ones life. Clearly it feels great, it wouldn’t be so hard to release if it didn’t.

“For almost a decade I remained in that abstract bubble of not giving a shit about anyone or anything, not even really taking care of myself because… well because I didn’t have to. Years of partying and booze and sex and head-over-heals love with nothing but the thought of being completely off my own head. All the things I thought were cool growing up, staring out that office window… the things that I thought would give me _real_ joy … Ha, I was wrong about that, the joy part… no, no I would not find that until much later on, and even then… well what I’m really saying is, there’s nothing cool or wild about fucking someone in the back of a shitty Plymouth Neon just for a line or two of coke… nothing at all.

“I regret a lot of the things I did back when I was younger, not pushing my aspirations more- perhaps if I had I could still be performing now… I regret- I regret most, if not all- yeah, all those drugs I’d taken, none of them were particularly bad from what I remember, I never did ecstasy or anything like that no- but I- well I do know what the worst night was, and part of it the content of those inviting little plastic bag’s fault.”

 

The absolution of it all now precedes me, I can’t turn back now even if I beg to Mother Nature to let me, I’ve revealed too much to turn and run away.

“April 15th, 1997… I uh, I went to this party at some abandoned storage house past the drive-in movie theatre… I’d gone with two of my friends, C-Carter and Jess, ‘friends’… if I can even call them that. I thought the place was a bit of a dive, I got a little- well _a lot_ high _-_ but still decided to bail. I- I, called Ashley to come pick me up, I didn’t know if I was on this earth or another by the time I got into that passenger seat… I never would have known- known that Ashley has just decided to snort a line off the dashboard while he was waiting for me.”

_‘Want me to take you fast babe?’_

That’s the last thing I remember Ashley saying to me… he always did have a way with words.

“I must have blindly accepted his invitation for a joy ride… I always found something intoxicatingly therapeutic within the sound of a roaring engine. He was fine at first- hitting ninety on those winding back roads, he was cheering, I was too. I can even remember the song that was playing on the radio… Cemetery Gates’ by Pantera… oh- the _fucking_ irony!”

My voice leaves me in a forced and choking laugh; Marco’s not shifted his confused gaze fixed against me this entire time. Here I am, loosing my mind right in front of him, almost a panic attack if you will, letting free the deepest and darkest parts of my humanity- and now he is going to understand why.

“Ashley’s coke guy Rolo was never really the sort to check his stock thoroughly… never knew when he got a dodgy batch. A-Ashley had an intense seizure in the driver’s seat.

“I-I didn’t know how to stop him- I’d never seen it before. He- he starting fitting and foaming from the mouth and he lost control of the car and it was all so _fucking_ fast before I could- I could even reach over for the wheel we hit _it_ and I _couldn’t_ even stop us.”

 

The collision still plays in my thoroughly in my mind to this very day. I can feel it, my body lunging forward, the impact, it’s the thing that haunts all my nightmares and it’s what wakes me up from sleep with a scarily real phantom intensity.

“…When I came too I could hardly speak, my head was bleeding and I could feel the gashes all up my arms and a big one across the bottom of my ankle. _Ha_ , motorbike accident my ass.”

“Ashley didn’t even die in the accident; the doctors ruled it that he’s choked on his own vomit as the car- as it hit the _other_ one. Ours had flipped, it took me a while but I managed to unclip my belt and bust the window open. We’d completely fucked the front of that other car, but only when I managed to clamber out did I see… did I see what real damage we had done.

“The smell, _god the smell_ of it was horrific. Recently sparked metal; the burnt tire tracks across the road… it made me feel like I myself was alight. But still, it was- it was the s-sight of it all that really had me heaving.

“She- she, she had light blonde hair- long and shining from the moons glow alone- she looked like one of those real poster moms from those white family stock photos ya know? Blues eyes, perfect teeth, the kind-looking sort. She was- she’d gone _right through the fucking windshield- oh god_ , there- there was blood, _it was e-everywhere!_ I wanted to help her b-but it was too late, I shook her and shook her but- nothing.”

“A-and then the man, the- the dad, h-his airbag must have failed, he- uh, he hit his head against the wheel and at first- at first I thought there was a chance with him- that he’d made it and again I shook and I shook and I _shook_ but he wouldn’t answer me- I- I tried to call out for help, my- my phone was fucked and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere, I tried to call out but I couldn’t and no one could hear me- I was all a-alone! Auh-“

In a pressing choke I double over, I can feel the hot tears pooling from my eyes and through them I can _see it_ all over again. Never, never since that very day have I said the words out-loud before. They’ve escaped me in a much less organised fashion then I’d hoped, I just couldn’t hold it together any longer.

I feel my shoulders shake with each pleading sob I let out. Marco makes no movements at all; his composure is what’s most frightening, though I have retained looking him in the eye for quite some time.

When I finally allow my panicking breathe to subside, my next words come out in more of a dying whisper, hushed and silencing,

“… It was then that I heard it… that _cry_.

“There was something almost haunting about it, in a sort of after-life kind of way, I figured I might really have been dead too at that point, either that or wishing I was. Before I even registered where abouts the sound was coming from, my eyes locked onto one of those little bumper stickers which had fallen off the back of the car, you know those little triangle ones you can get in Home Depot-“

_‘Baby on board’_

“That baby really was well looked after, I mean hardly a scratch on the poor thing in its high-tech little car seat… it was clearly loved.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t touch it, it was so fragile I was scared I might break it- more than I had anyway.”

“The _‘it’_ you are referring to…” Marco’s interruption registers as a complete surprise to me. In a swift instant my eyes meet his, and in a peculiar way they look tired more then anything, drooping and cloudy. Though I know they are understanding, “it was me, wasn’t it?”

“I’m- I-‘m so sor-“

“You murdered them. You are the reason why they’re gone.” His voice is monotone and flattened out, I’ve never heard him speak in such a way before, it’s almost ethereal in its presentation and does nothing but partner his unblinking eyes hawking down on my own perfectly.

“No! No- I, I didn’t mean to I-“

“They’re dead because of you, that’s why you can’t look my in the eye, that’s why you hate me- I make you remember don’t I- I make you feel guilty about it!”

“Yes of course you do I- I can’t-“ Every time I speak he cuts me off, rightly so, what plausibility do I hold to try justify myself? I know I didn’t legally do it; my murder wasn’t technical or even intentional. But I still feel like I did it with my own bare hands all the same.

“And you let me be friends with Eren- all these years you had me over in the place where you lived, has me eat at the same table as you. All while you knew- how _could_ you even do that?” His features shift, nose curling in disgust to match the spit in his words, anguished at my capability to mask actuality for so many years.

“I _didn’t_ know- not at first, I- you were about fourteen before I even figured it out, I-I came to pick Eren up from you house and that’s when I saw them- your mom and dad’s pictures up in the hallway and I knew it was them the moment I laid eyes on them- I would have _never_ intruded on your life if I’d known-“

“ _’Intruded’_? You ruined it before it even had a chance!”

I withdraw at that statement. It’s a reality that I have always known but still somehow tried to live on despite everything. I helped ruin this boy’s life because I was too far consumed in some ridiculous master-plan of living life on the edge to notice the damage I could cause. That’s the problem with being so risky, being daring sometimes is fun yes, healthy even and I don’t dispute it… but from my own experience I know of the havoc it can cause to other people too. It’s why I tried so hard to keep Eren contained; to never let him enjoy himself in a similar fashion that I knew could be dangerous- life-ruining even.

One drunken punch in a bar, one violent push of a friend, one thoughtless choice to get into a car with someone who is bad news- it’s the details like that; those are the things that destroy a person if they’re too reckless.

 

“Did you ever serve time?”

“For the drugs-yes… state penitentiary, three years.” I let the shame follow my words, I know it’s a piss-poor means of justice for what I played a part in and I know it’ll make Marco nothing but even angrier then he already is.

“ _Three years_? Three years- and then after that what? You moved into your big fancy house up the hill, ate with silverware, had the perfect job- all while me and my grandfather were struggling to keep his business on two feet in the less fortunate end of town- now where’s the fairness in that? _You_ wreck _my_ life, and then you get everything you could ever want…”

“You don’t think I’d trade places with them if I could?! I would- in a heartbeat I swear-“

Our voices rise with each retaliation. I don’t even know why I’m trying to justify myself anymore, though it seems likely it’s my shameful pleading to myself if no one else that I never meant for any of this to happen. That I can be a good person if I try, I did try! I wanted to turn over a new leaf when I got out, I knew I wasn’t worthy of it but when I met Erwin I was just far too enticed and needy and greedy and I wanted all that happiness for myself and to forget that any of the past ever happened, I never imagined it would come back to haunt me so vividly as to have that same baby live not five minutes from my home. Mercilessly, I wanted a new me, but I suppose karma really is a bitch.

“But you haven’t! You don’t really mean that- you haven’t even told your own family the truth!”

“I can’t tell them- _I can’t_ -“

“What you can’t loose them? Yeah, I know _exactly_ how that feels, I get it!” His face is red with fury and fists clenched to bust, his streaming tears symmetrical to my own as he stands from the seat with brisk intent.

“Oh no no no see you couldn’t possibly understand-“ My sanity retreats me. He’s wrong about one thing, believing inside himself that I am not the sort of person to care about others, that I wouldn’t feel all too heartbroken if I lost my new family, “no you see, Eren, he called me ‘ _dad_ ’ you know? The other week, he called me that- he’s never said it before _not even once_ but I could _feel_ it, right there in my chest I _knew_ what it meant!” I clutch my jaw tight, hissing out the words, standing too and pointing in ferociously hard towards my chest, “And do you know what I did? I let him go. I just allowed him drop the whole thing and I locked myself away into my study and just let myself _cry_ because if he only knew the sort of person I _really_ was then he’d never want to call me that again! No, no you don’t ‘ _get_ _it’_ see- I love that boy and his Godfather so much that it _hurts_! The sort of hurt that I think it’s going to kill me but I can’t bear to let it go! I _can’t_ loose them- I can’t…”

My words seem to fail me, looking up to the boy in only pitiful agony at this point. I can’t assume he won’t tell Eren about any of this, won’t tell the police what I’ve said- he doesn’t know anything about how I got this job deal at M.R.S, for all he can tell, I’m a latent criminal hiding my identity under the false cover of a pleasantly boring man living in the suburbs and going to the city for good, honest work like the millions surrounding us.

I suppose I should prepare myself for the worst now, I could try to do the more honest thing and tell Erwin and Eren myself first, I at least deserve them that if I can’t give them anything else.


	22. Act 2: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My night has been hectic so posting this has been a great distraction! 
> 
> Levi and Eren's flashback scene was one of the most important to me, I hope you enjoy! <3

**Eren**

 

It’s said there is a science behind a broken heart.

‘Takotsubo cardiomyopathy’ they call it, the weakening of the muscles surrounding your heart; the trigger supposedly being emotional stress. The result: cardiac arrest, in some cases even death- the final straw but somehow still the road more easily traveled then the one I’ve strayed across.

The entire condition is apparently named so after old Japanese octopus traps, which coincidentally adopt the physical attributes of the heart’s left ventricular apex. The symptoms: sweatiness, shortness of breath, all the similar qualities to a more common heart attack. There is one key distinction separating TC however, that being the clear passages of your arteries, a lack of cholesterol build up, less chance of abnormalities occurring.

I’m no scientific expert; in fact you can thank Healthline.com for all of that useless information. Heck, the sarcastic jerks running the site even threw in a sly joke about Death Cab for Cutie, as if some inter-textual bullshit about alternative rock bands might draw my mind away from the painstaking throb accumulating from my chest.

I’m not even sure why I thought checking medical symptoms on my phone would do me any good, perhaps simply an excuse to pass the time on the train ride home, out of curiosity as to seemingly hourly rising self-deprecation causing my abundance of obtuse loneliness, maybe.

In my naivety, despite my constant running away, I figured perhaps I still had a single threading chance, a marginal fraction of reason which would grant me the ability to mend the cracks of the proverbial mirror I have shattered. That was stupid of me, of course you can glue a mirror together again, but even after that the reflection left staring back is one filled with fragile cracks and fault-lines of vulnerability.

I thought I had a chance of mending myself, getting everyone back maybe; but not now, now after all I have heard- _his words, the meaning_ \- the mirror has receded to nothing but dust.

 

The journey home is a long one. Physically no, not a single difference whatsoever. The train ride takes just as long as it usually does, makes all the same stops and produces all the same hissing noises. Back in Tarrytown the hum of engines and faint chatter of fellow residence are nothing out of the ordinary. It is a little cold for November perhaps; my hands do feel numb-

Oh… or maybe that’s because I’ve rolled them into fists so tight.

Yes, everything is the same but somehow still it’s all changed. I, _we_ , can ever truly go back to the way things were, the happiness I was too self-indulged to appreciate, the care I strived for yet pushed away out of nothing but fear- that’s all gone now. All that’s left is the hollowness of knowing the truth.

Some bizarre part of me thinks about knocking on the door for a moment, my own home for god sake, yet still the unease in my stomach mimics intrusion.

_He intruded._

I step inside and I wish for everything to be poetic. I want a dark and desolate corridor, temptation to proceed but fear of the unknown. I want to be scared and unfamiliar with my surroundings, I want to feel pressure about stepping through the halls of my home; perhaps that would add some sort of gravity to the situation, make it all feel like this is other-worldly, not really that authentic to face up to.

_He didn’t face up to us._

But it’s just not poetic at all. It’s real and that’s what hurts the most. The air is comforting in its dim heat, the lights are bright but they’re not invasive. Instead they’re yellow and wholesome and they remind me of warm summer nights with folk music and dinner table convocations and those sweet crisp pastries they sell from the bakery in the middle of town.

Would it be selfish to ignore all of it instead? Just walk into that lounge and pretend like none of this ever really happened because as far as I _should_ know, it didn’t? Could I even go through with that though it’s what I crave? No.

_He lied._

 

“Eren! I- um-“ he’s been crying, “God, I keep telling Mrs Loufet to keep that damn cat way from me.” Levi brushes the back of his hand over his nose, twisting it to catch the stray stains on his reddened cheeks, “Does nothing but- uh- bring out my allergies.”

His excuse precedes me. I can’t even bring myself to care that he’s trying still to hide it, of course he is. How could I know why he’s been crying after all?

When I speak the words come out in jittering fractions, less subtle then planned, almost inaudibly quiet as if I’m still not sure this is what I want to do. I lean up from the door I’ve closed behind me, a few steps forward, not many, not enough to reach out, still Levi seems to retract and turn his back away with every inch I make.

“… I never knew Marco was from the Keystone State.”

“ _Haa_ \- you heard?” Levi’s body snaps violently back round, his shoulders shaking and neck locked tight, mouth agape and eyes widened. He is terrified, I can easily tell, so am I.

“Every word.”

 

You can imagine my surprise in spotting Marco a good distance ahead of me in Manhattan this morning; stumbling nervously around Sina campus, tiptoeing his way towards the auditorium. I never thought to catch up because I didn’t want the excuse to talk about Mikasa, or about Jean, or Ymir, or Armin, or anyone or else for that matter. I kept my distance, sleuthed Marco into the auditorium building, kept my steady pace all the way to the doors and there I waited and I listened.

I almost crashed in once, before I heard of Levi’s true reasoning. When Marco first lashed out,

_“WHY DO YOU HATE ME?”_

I never even knew that, why would I look to find such a thing? God- I thought Marco had lost his mind for a moment, how funny that would have been, if all of this was just some crazy old misunderstanding. Marco could take Bertolt’s place on the theatre program, Levi would never have to nag me to sing show tunes ever again; Marco would be happy, he would be happy, I would be… could have been.

But instead I had waited, and then I heard it all- about ‘Ashley’, about Levi’s family, about the drugs and about the accident- and I would give anything to _un-hear_ it.

 

“Why did you never tell us?” I ask when Levi never responds, accumulated instead in his own tormented guilt, half-collapsed against the rosewood coffee table. My eyes drop down faded and half-lid onto his hunched form. I’ve always had to look down to Levi, not out of malice or with uncivilised intent, simply because that was the way our bodies were made; how strange a feeling now it is to be judging with my stare.

“I didn’t… want to loose… what I had. Finally- _finally_ I was happy, for once, really happy… I couldn’t just throw it all away.” Levi’s voice trails into a tired sob, rubbing his hands over his face before putting them together at his chin and pleading upwards.

“So you chose to lie?” Levi drags his interlocked hands up over his face again, hitting himself against the skull dully and shaking his head for side to side over me, “For years… you kept it all from us?”

“No no no no-“

“-Tricked us?”

“I didn’t _lie_ \- I just- fuck…” Words continue to flood out, hardly coherent, muffled between the hands covering his face and gasping breaths of panic.

He did lie, just like everyone else has, Levi is no different. I thought- I thought perhaps he was more individual. That he especially, above everyone else had the resolve and ability to not treat me some like some fragile mess of a human. Levi has always been a little harsher, but I needed that; no sugar-coating, no false comfort or fake laughter, deep, honest and imperfect attention, messy even- at least I then I knew the care was real, not forced or scripted or acted out as if I wouldn’t notice.

 

It’s violent as I snap, my body lunging forward with the same vigour as my voice, head dropping down closer to Levi’s own, disgusted by his inability to face me even now,

“Well you didn’t exactly tell us the truth!” There is a certain venom to my tone, one I didn’t even know I quite possessed. This is not like arguing with Jean. Jean didn’t struggle with his words, Jean didn’t _bawl_ \- Jean just bit back with the same aggression and it was all so exciting and enthralling and I _needed_ it- I don’t need this… I don’t want this.

“You don’t understand Eren- please-“

“YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE!” I draw back, rushing my fingers through my hair as I stumble to keep upright. Fuck what time is it? When will Erwin be home? Can I? Should I tell him? Oh fuck I’ve got to, “You’re worse than I’ve ever been! Preaching all this time about what I should and shouldn’t be doing when it was you, _you_ all along!”

“I WASN’T GOING TO LET YOU MAKE THE SAME CHOICES THAT I DID!” Levi slams his hands down against the table once before he recoils up, his eyes burning red and teeth gritted with emotive fury.

“I WOULDN’T- NEVER THAT-“

“You don’t know! You think I planned for any of this to happen? You can never know what the outcome will be; best to quit while you’ve still got the chance!”

 “You’re full of shit! Oh my _goddd_ … I feel sick-“ I thrust my hand up to my mouth, head shaking with nauseous realisation, “I can’t look at you- oh fuck, you _killed_ them-“

“Eren listen-“

“Those innocent people died- _uhh_ -“ My breathe becomes even shorter, shallower still. My head shakes insanely, taking two steps back for every one Levi makes forward. I feel my first real tears fall in broad strokes down from my eyes when Levi lunges himself forward; his grip on each my shoulders almost painfully tight.

“I WASN’T DRIVING! I DIDN’T KNOW ASH HAD TAKEN ANYTHING-“ Levi shakes me, the anguish in his face overpowering, pleading for me to forgive and forget, “EREN I _SWEAR_ TO YOU- PLEASE-“

“What? N-not tell Erwin? You- you know I can’t do that to him!” I find my own fingers curling up within Levi’s shirt, half pushing him away from me but still holding the obscenely sobbing man close-

“BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

“WE TRUSTED YOU!”

“EREN THAT ISN’T ME- YOU KNOW ME-“

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

“NO-“

“YOU _LIED_!”

 

“LEVI!”

 

Erwin’s voice cuts through the air like razor blades. I retract my hands in an instant, eyes far too unnerved to meet Erwin’s over by the door. Instead I lift them to meet Levi’s- his emotion lacking any form of his usual ubiquitous frown. This look, this is one of pure chilled blood, bated breath, as if Levi’s whole entire existence- the one he has known with Erwin and I at least- has spun full circle. Life flashing in his glassy eyes if you will, and when they meet mine I feel my heart break for him.

“Let go of Eren. Now.”

I jittered and unorganised movements, Levi nods in response and slowly lowers his hands from my shoulders, turning on his feet to face Erwin head-on.

“E-Erwin I um- I-“

“What is this?” Erwin interrupts flatly, pulling his hand from behind his back and producing an opened white envelope. Both Levi and I frown in confusion, squinting in an attempt to register the sender, “It uh- it talks about a parole officer? And that you’re supposed to go to attend as a witness for somebody?”

“Why do you have that?” Levi retorts back in a painfully cracked voice, his eyes still glued to the envelope, ignoring Erwin’s gaze all together.

“You weren’t in your office so the mail guy gave it to my secretary instead. Then Moblit handed it over to me to give to you. I’m sorry for deceiving you and opening your mail, but then again when I saw the _god-damn_ sigil for the supreme court of Pennsylvania I got just a little bit curious!” Erwin’s voice rises as he throws the envelope down onto the floor. “You- you were in _prison_?”

“…Yes…” There’s an overwhelming sense of shame in Levi’s tone, his head drops down to the envelope at the floor, all too unprepared just yet to look Erwin in the eye.

“And the drugs, you took them? I mean that’s what it says.”

“That’s right.”

“It uh- it says three people died in total- because of- because of reckless driving?”

“Yes… but I-”

“NO, DON’T!” It’s as if all at once Erwin’s self-restraint breaks and it’s petrifying when he yells, angry finger lunging out judgingly. Though almost instantly he recoils it back, his attitude contradictory in nature like he can’t quite decide what he wants to do with himself, though I can’t really blame him for that.  “DON’T MAKE EXCUSES LIKE I COULD GIVE A DAMN- WHO, WHO EVEN ARE YOU? LEVI? LEVI-“ Erwin makes a few more steps forward with each mention of the other’s name, though Levi fails to shift his sullen and shaking stance, “LEVI WOULD YOU FUCKING LOOK AT ME!”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?” Levi jolts up, hands flying out desperately before falling against his side.

“Just tell him the truth, the one you told Marco!” I finally intervene, my words careless but honest all the same. I thought I was confused but Erwin stands on a much higher, much more troublesome ground- for all he knows- Levi outright committed manslaughter, “Erwin listen to him!”

 “YOU STAY OUT OF IT EREN!”

“BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND-“

I still don’t even understand, I want to know- I need- I need to know there is truth behind Levi’s pleading, that there is still some chance that he is the person I thought we knew.

“YES I DON’T, I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING! BUT IF THIS IS THE TRUTH THEN I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. YOU- YOU TRICKED ME? WHAT WAS ANY OF IT TO YOU, LEVI? JUST SOME TWISTED GAME OF YOURS TO ESCAPE YOUR PAST-LIFE?”

It can’t have all been a lie, could it?

I mean- well if it was, if we were just some easy escape for him, a means of being able to forget about the accident and everything else… then would Levi really have put in so much effort this whole time?

Is anyone really that good a performer to fake the kind of love I thought he felt too?

“NO NO, NONE OF IT WAS FALSE!” Levi’s whole body moves when he shakes his head, Erwin’s own more physical as he begins pacing. I on the other hand find myself incapable of motion all together. It’s as if I’m not really in this moment with either of them. Sure I can make a comment, try and intervene… but as much as it should be a three-way-street, the two of them just don’t feel like this is my argument whatsoever.

On the outside looking in, like some omniscient director watching all the tragedy unfold; it seems like the only times I really can change the narrative is to ruin everyone else’s stories all together. I’m good at that after all.

“ _OH GOD_ \- WHO- WHO EVEN ARE YOU? HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET A JOB? LEVI? IS THAT EVEN YOUR NAME?”

“YES OF COURSE IT IS!” Levi moves swift past Erwin and collapses down into the couch closer to me, head falling into his hands with a low shaking breath as he rubs at his sore eyes, “I… I only changed my last name…”

“Jesus Christ-“ Erwin spits angrily while Levi attempts to force through his reasoning,

“But that was only because I didn’t want anyone to find a connection between my family and I. My brother Drake, he’s a neurosurgeon in Illinois, I didn’t want people putting the two of us together for his sake. I may not like the guy but- but I couldn’t wreck anyone else’s life after everything-“

“So you think you’re some saint just for that? You faked your identity and took a job with minors; you are supposed to be responsible! I thought- you were-”

“I get it, I’m a disappointment, and I’m sorry that I’m not the perfect copy-paste husband that you deserve, but you really think I don’t know what self-loathing feels like?”

 

It’s almost terrifying how much I feel like I can relate to Levi’s current disposition. I mean sure, no ones died through my countless mistakes, but I’ve shattered a few dreams along the way. I suppose there was a method in Levi’s madness, his constant striving to have me detach myself from all the volatile aspects of my youthful existence.

I know it wasn’t because he hated my friends or anything sinister like that. I know he still doesn’t see them to be so much of a bad influence on me, more so that I am to myself. Levi just seems to be great at reading people in that way, he knew I was too numb in my own mind to make all the right choices by myself, he wanted to be able to help me make the good ones, the ones which wouldn’t put me in the same position as he is right now.

“I didn’t ‘fake’ anything for work; Zackly gave me the job knowing full-well about everything. We decided to keep it on the down-low for the sake of the college and its reputation. He met me when I’d just moved to the city, I wanted to start afresh. I had this gig singing in a club off 10th avenue at the time and he was desperate for a new drama teacher. I thought- I don’t know, it was such a good deal and I figured it was too late for me to perform with my temperamental ankle n’all. Even after I got the job at M.R.S, when I plucked up the courage to take on Sweeny Todd it terrified me. After opening night, all those newspaper articles, the reviews, I had to let it go. I couldn’t have anyone digging up my past-“

“Or I’d find out?” Erwin’s eyes flutter half-lidded, his head slightly tilted and stance exhausted of emotion.

“Or you’d find out.” Levi swallows and it’s gutturally thick, uncomfortably so and when he bites down on his lip and lets his head fall back against the couch and his eyes shut. I can sense him bracing himself for some sort of final outcome and I can tell he’s ready for accept karma’s punishment for him.

“If it means anything to you now… I never wanted to hurt you. You- the both of you- you were never part of the plan. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I- I always thought about pulling away to save you both the hassle. But I guess I just got too involved, and then, with every passing day it just got harder and harder to leave. I realised I didn’t want you to know. But even then didn’t want to go. I couldn’t- well you know…”

 

I can just about remember the first time I met Levi.

God I hated him.

Well ‘ _hate_ ’ might be a strong word, even for an eight year-old. After all, ‘hate’ didn’t stretch as far as that one game at the arcade you never had enough pocket money to play, or the kid in your class who stole your lucky pen without asking… still I knew the gravity of that word, even way back then. I’d felt it enough before over my Dad, over loosing my Mom… and so I did, I hated Levi.

There was a selfish reasoning behind my loathing, of course there was. It was a Friday afternoon, ‘pizza night’ Erwin would always proclaim, because I was tediously a picky eater and liked to disobey his rules and some fatty deep-pan was about the only thing my little self was unable to neglect stomaching.

 _“Eren, dinner is here!”_ Erwin had called up to me from the bottom of the staircase and so, stampeding, I followed the voice.

My young feet pounded down excitedly against every step, harshly so that any usual parent would most-likely scold their child for making such a ruckus. Erwin though- well I think he was more fond of getting to see me filled with positive energy on such rare occasions like this that he would never disrupt me in my scarce happiness.

My mission to dinner was grinded to an untimely halt at the bottom of the staircase. I was rendered incapable of ceasing my rapid momentum in such a short span of time that my body collided into my obstructer with an unsavoury ‘thud’. Levi hasn’t exactly changed much in appearance in the past eleven years, got a little greyer, rougher-skinned perhaps, but he’s always been the same sarcastic shortie with a surprisingly well-build physique despite his small frame.

Before I even managed to pull away in begrudged embarrassment, my eyes caught his dark ones and to be rather frank, he kind of scared me. His whole exterior, clad casually in some patch-covered denim jacket which managed to fool me only momentarily that he might have been a lot younger then he actually was at the time. When I think about it now, Levi’s peculiar fashion choices are beginning to make a little more sense to me. Sure I mean he dresses like anyone else for work, suit, tie, the whole well-mannered adult charade; but as soon as he gets home it’s away with the button-ups and hello to the reject rock-band shirts, as if he’s trying to make up for some old forgotten youth where he could still act like a naive, childish liability and have people take care of him like he means something to them.

_“Eren this is my friend from work, Levi. Why don’t you say hi?”_

I could tell right from the start that Levi had some sort of complex air about him, an indescribable nature that Erwin seemed to shrug off as unimportant- yet one Levi has continued carrying with him up until this very day. Back then I couldn’t really decipher his true intentions at all, like someone had ripped out the last few pages of a crime novel before the mystery could ever be solved, I was never able to understand what Levi wanted with either of us at such a young age.

_“Hello Eren, your Godfather here has told me a lot about you.”_

All I knew was that he was false.

That night and every time after that, the more and more I saw of Levi, the more and more I disliked his presence. Maybe it was as simple a thing as jealousy; I’d only just begun to get used to Erwin’s presence, and I could accept the fact that he was the life I was left with. Compared to all the other kids at school, with their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers- they were different to me. Erwin up until then had never really registered to me as being my ‘family’ as per-say. I didn’t have one of those, mine was gone.

I think that was why Levi used to bother me so much. Because I knew he was fake. Sure he didn’t dislike me or want to shun away my existence as part of the package-deal that was Erwin and I. It was more that I don’t think he quite knew how to act around me, and so he had managed to create some whole protective layer over himself: one where he could act like he knew what he was doing, that he had no nasty interior to hide.

God it all makes sense now!

How I managed to overcome my dislike of him… though I’m not sure irksomely loving him did me all that much better. At least when I really disliked him I never had to pretend not to care about his presence, and if I did still begrudge him then at least I wouldn’t have to be holding down the guttural anguish of the impending thought of living without him.

It’s like Levi had told Marco earlier, I must have been around fourteen at the time. I remember having slept at Marco’s the night before because I’d taken over my PS3 for him to play with me, he could never afford one at home and it was my way of indoctrinating him into the world of the Street Fighter the comfort of his own couch. Levi had come to pick me up the next morning and usually this was the sort of thing he wouldn’t even bother to get out of the car to do. Even to this day Levi hates unnecessary small-talk, and so his ability to avoid miniature discussion with Marco’s grandfather was best served by remaining comfortably in the seat of his car.

But that day must have been different. Such a small, practically unnecessary detail, Levi stepping not even two feet into the house simply to help me carry some of my bags; what a shitty way of finding out the child you live with- that his best friend is the grenade that triggers in the battlefield of your mind.  Levi had kept calm but I know now it must have been then that he saw Marco’s family pictures for the first time; hanging proudly in the tight hallway, black and white gradient, mourning in nature- but they had smiles, the two parents together- baby between them- on some park bench in the city, laughing, blushing, unaware of the short future and still very much alive.

It was on the way home from Marco’s house that Levi stopped at the side of the road on the Main Street. In a shaking and nervous breath he turned off the ignition and delved in his pocket, pulling out his wallet,

_“Here Eren, go to the game store. Pick out anything you like.”_

Insanity was what that was to me. Levi was scarce on handing me money for anything unessential on most days, never mind for video games. I sat in shock; I didn’t know what to do: to take it, to laugh, to ignore his offer all together. One thing I knew for certain however, simply by the look in his eyes- the distain, the confusion, the red-rimmed anguish- I just knew not to question him.

When I had returned to the car my hypothesis had been deemed correct. Back then I didn’t know why, or the context of it at all, all I knew what that Levi was crying and I’d never seen him do that before. Something in me changed that day, the way that I looked at him shifted. He had always been some sort of doll to me, a fake mannequin with a lying smile and a personality to match- never, _never_ before had I though he was capable of such emotion.

My impression of Levi changed because I didn’t need to know how or why or what had caused him to be sobbing in the drivers seat the way he was- I just knew that for the first time I could relate to him, knew that I could understand him in some fucked up way because I too understood what that kind crying like that felt like.

 _“You know,”_ I shrugged off as I slid back into the car, bag in hand, purposefully ignoring Levi’s rapid attempts to rub the tears from his eyes, to compose himself into the usual flat-faced man he wanted me to see of him. But I didn’t need that any longer, no, I needed an equal. Someone different to Erwin, not someone who would try bring me down to Earth, or try to ground the heartache out of me because they thought what I went through was easy enough just to forget about and try move on with. I needed Levi because then- somehow- I _knew_ Levi was the same, that he understood the gravity of loosing someone, _“this is a two player game. Wanna go when we get home?”_

 

“Get out.” Erwin croaks, and it’s painful and filled with instant regret but I can tell he knows he must do it for his own sanity.

“Wait- what?” I find myself intruding. I knew it would happen, I knew it was coming but still- this is- this is not what I want. Levi, yes he lied and I can’t forgive him for what he has done right now but- but I don’t wanna loose him forever either!

“Eren it’s fine.” Levi half-smiles with a saddened tilt of his head and extends himself up from the couch, over to the door without as much as a hint of hesitation.

“No it’s not!” I debate, twisting my body round to face Erwin, “You’ve not even heard what really happened!”

“I don’t want to hear a _single_ word out of his mouth. How would I even know he would be telling the truth anyway?”

“Erwin please-” My last pleading argument goes unconsidered and Erwin disrupts me yet again,

“Drop it Eren!”

Ah… so this is it then?

It’s over.

The family I have, the one I’ve been too stubborn to give in to, it’s all going to be lost before I even allowed myself let it truly begin?

I can’t- it doesn’t matter who they are, what they did, any of it! I just- I don’t want to loose anybody else…

Levi’s eyes fall downwards slowly when he reaches his hand up to rest on the doorframe of the family room in support. He doesn’t leave right away for the front door; he wavers there a little while longer, taking it all in, breathing in the air one last time. Erwin doesn’t even turn around to face him, head still darted at the floor and firsts curled tight.

“Erwin… I’m sorry-“

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE! GET OF MY HOUSE NOW!” Erwin bellows and that’s Levi’s queue to go, and so he does as easy as that.

The front door sounds as it opens and closes behind him. The last thing I hear being the faint and ever decreasing sound of Levi’s car engine as it aborts from the drive and off into the winter-evening street.

If this were all just some play then I guess this would be when the curtain would fall. End of scene. Round of applause. Move on.

But I can’t just leave this space now. Can’t take off this costume, I’m glued to it- I am this character forever. No director or producers or anybody else can stop me from playing this part no matter how much I beg for a ‘cut’.

I _am_ Eren Jeager and I have _no one_ left anymore.

 

Another lie perhaps.

 I suppose there’s still Erwin.

 “DON’T YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO? GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

The again, what’s a man without his heart?

Does he even count as an option anymore?

“… Yes _sir_.”


	23. Act 2: Armin / Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Sorry for the longer wait, though with revision beginning for exams this seems rather more likely.  
> Hope you enjoy- I had fun getting Armin and Eren's perspectives on one another for a change.

**Armin**

 

“Hows’ comes’ you gotta move away? Who am I supposed to play with at school when you’re gone? Your mom’s job is lame anyway.” Eren had groaned, jabbing his plump eight-year-old fingers into the games controller, his eyes un-blinking and likely impossible to pry away from the screen.

“Insanely lame.” I had agreed blindly, too far immersed into which ever half-baked video game that occupied our mindsets. I don’t even think I quite knew what work my mother did for a living back when I was that young. She worked at a desk, she had a lot of staff she yelled at, she had a Newton’s cradle in her office- I knew that much at least.

“Crazy lame.”

“Exceedingly so.”

“ _’Exceedingly’_ …I don’t know that word.” Eren pouted, his momentary confusion posing itself as the key opportunity for me to strike with my finishing move, “NO, OO OO LEFT- LEFT- AW MAN!”

“HA! Beat you again.” I soaked in my victory with a loud jeer and fist to the sky before standing from Eren’s bed and clutching hold of my polished school bag, “Now I’ve really got to get home. I’m packing all my books tonight.”

Eren’s response was one matching annoyance, and in a childish fit of a tantrum- one that even at such a young age I was so familiar to seeing- he fell back into his mattress and muffed his face inside the mound of pillows atop his bedspread.

“Pleasepleaseplease stay just a little longer!” Eren’s eyes fluttered hopefully, pulling the games controller out from under him and offering it back.

“I can’t.” I refused his tempting offer yet still continued to make work of pulling the disgruntled boy up from the bed in an attempt to promote a well-mannered attitude, one Eren very-much often lacked, “Now get up. Your Godfather said you’re going out for dinner tonight anyway.”

“Yeah, with his new ‘friend’ Levi- _gross_.” Eren resisted, yanking his thin arms away from me and collapsing back down with a heavy ‘thud’, “Who wants to kiss and hug and stuff like they do? He’s bound to get koodies from that…”

“I thought you only got that from girls? His friend is a boy too, so it’s okay.”

“Well it’s still stupid. Levi doesn’t even like sour candy.” Eren grumbled almost inaudibly, twisting his body away from me to face the wall.

 

I was used to this sort of attitude. In a public environment Eren seemed to take on more of an aggressive character, sometimes getting into fights, seemingly far-too protective over his frail, little blond friend from the year below to think clearly about the course of his actions.

That sort of posture often changed by the time the two of us were left alone together. Eren didn’t mind shutting off his harsh exterior around me, not that I was entirely sure he knew he was doing it.

It was a bizarre reality. Even now I often find myself questioning whether or not Eren and I would have been friends at all if it wasn’t for our mothers bonding before Ms. Jeager’s untimely passing. At the exterior, Eren and I never seemed like the sort to connect, our personalities were like chalk and cheese, he was brash and fast-acting, I perhaps more quick-witted, but more drawn-out in terms of decision making.

But you know what the say, ‘opposites attract’, right? And that they did. I loved Eren like a brother, the sibling neither of us ever had; and despite our obvious differences, our attitudes fit together like cogs turning a wheel. We just- well we just worked. We were inseparable.

I thought nothing would have changed when I saw him again.

 

“It’s only stupid because we’re not adults yet, we don’t know how they think. But that’s okay cus’ you still got me and I still got you, right?” I smiled, crawling up onto the bed on my hands and knees, leaning over Eren’s frame, trying to catch a subtle smile on his face I just knew would still be there.

“Even when you have to go n’ leave?” Eren twisted back up to face me, eyes widened and filled with a hopefulness they often lacked, but one I relished in seeing on such occasion.

“Even then.” And I extended my pinkie-finger out to him in the most intensely honest promise a child could possibly muster. A promise that we would have each others backs till the end of time itself, no matter where we were or what we were doing- that no matter how bad things seemed- we would always be together.

“Always.”

Liar.

 

*

 

I should have known this would be where Eren would want me to meet him.

Despite his self-destructive tendencies it seems Eren really cannot control his thirst for nostalgia.

The Lyndhurst always was his favourite place. Mystical in its appearance, almost gothic in nature. The intricate brickwork and visual artistic detail that emulates from its solid architecture always fascinated me; though I think Eren just liked to get out of the house.

How amusing I found upon moving to the UK that ‘Lyndhurst’ is actually a rather large village within the county of Hampshire. It’s rather a beautiful place too, rustic and old-fashioned in appearance, lots of cows and bakeries- all that heart-warming nonsense that can almost make a person forget about the hustle and bustle that follows a city like New York. But it just wasn’t the same as the Lyndhurst I knew, a place doesn’t make the place after all, it’s the people that are in it that do. Without Eren sat beside me on the open green; or the same sunlight showering down the back of our necks, the birds singing their melodies of nonsense or the endless time we spent relishing in each others company, it just wasn’t the same as the place that I had known.

My mother and father alike had been unconcerned in my wishes to study back over here in the US; in fact the actively encouraged it. They thought being away from my dad’s illness and my mum’s work would clear my head and give me the opportunity to ‘find myself’- whatever that’s supposed to mean.

I’d been excited too, to study that is, to meet new people, a new way of life that was far bigger than my own in England ever had been. It never even crossed my mind that fate would have Eren and I come together again.

 

“Eren?” I let out through an awkward cough, brushing down my shirt absently and watching my footing carefully as I make my way down the damp, grassy embankment towards Eren’s form at the shallow lake’s edge, “Uh- Eren?”

He continues to fail in acknowledging my presence and so trudging, I proceed until I’m but a few steps behind him. It’s then that I notice what he is actually doing; skimming rocks- or rather attempting to it seems. Each toss appears slightly more pathetic than the other, though I can’t decipher whether this is at all to do with Eren’s lack-lustre technique or the fact the lake (or ‘pond’ perhaps) is little more then the length of the two of us head-to-foot together.

“Eren.” I call again, louder still- wait-

The faint hum of music- techno even- meets my ears; so that’s why he can’t hear me.

“Who wears earphones when they’re waiting for someone?” I sigh loudly, prodding Eren at the shoulder until he turns around.

His face is that of a shattered window, a crack in the pavement, a smudge on paper; something about just isn’t right, disturbed and unsettled. The tired, purple smear round his eyelids tell me what we all already know yet what Eren still fails to express verbally even when we’re willing to listen- that he is in pain.

“Oh, Armin.” Eren lips curl up only slightly when he pulls the buds from his ears and settles himself down onto the grassy terrain, turning his head towards the lake again, “I don’t normally do this, but this guy Marlowe- he does some kind of DJ course on Sina- he has these sick Soundcloud mash-ups, like totally abstract stuff: Beethoven and Major Lazer, that kind of jazz. I’ve become a bit obsessed lately.”

His voice trails on and on like he’s excusing his shambled appearance on words filled with a bullshit lack of care. He’s compensating for his nervousness, perhaps I should be too, almost every interaction I’ve had with Eren thus far have lead to a mess of screaming and fist-fights after all.

Yet still I feel like I’ve got to try and do this. I’ve waited long enough; I want answers- I need to know what’s going on inside Eren’s head even if no one else will. After all that’s happened, the fight, the break-up, Ymir’s accident- he doesn’t have to explain any of that if he doesn’t want to. I can respect that if nothing else- I just want to know why he did what he did to _me_.

 

“… I um, I was pretty surprised when you called. Figured you were about the last person who wanted to see me.” Eren croaks, looking down at his hands and the small rounded pebble between them.

“You look like hell.” I answer plainly, no need to soften his blow after all.

“Do I? Didn’t really register.” Eren rolls his eyes bitterly before drawing his arm back and tossing the stone at the darkened water resulting in a singular heavy splash.

I watch the rock fall and the water ripple, separating within itself in abstract patterns from rings to strokes before forming back into its perfect dormancy as if nothing ever happened at all.

Perhaps I was a fool to think I could simply introduce myself back into Eren’s life and have the same effect.

“Well anyway, I guess it was just high-time one of us reached out.” I sigh, bringing myself down to settle next to him. It must be around 3pm at best, it’s becoming harder to tell with the sun setting so early these days. Though even if it were the middle of summer I think the same anxious chill would continue to overpower me.

“ _’Us_ ’, looks like you really have settled in.” Eren laughs bitterly, pulling his jacket further round himself in escape of the ear-numbing breeze.

Perhaps the worst part of any of this isn’t even the mocking tone of his voice, or the way- even now when I called out to him with the hopes of fixing these broken ends- that he still continues to belittle those trying to help. No, the worst part of it all is that Eren has failed to once truly look me in the eyes at all.

“Why did you do it Eren?” I break the growing silence between us when my mouth finally catches up to my brain, “Why did you ignore me?”

Eren pauses with a shaking breathe, searching the ground again for another stone and proceeding to copy his previous action of drawing his hand back and letting the pebble fly.

“…Ah I dunno… I suppose I was just scared.” His eyes draw away from the slowly stilling pond, to the trees surrounding the clearing, to the Lyndhurst clearly visible in the distance. There are no visitors today for him to muse over.

“Scared of what?”

“I guess... scared that you would remind me of what it was like to feel that kind of ‘sad’ all over again. I just- I got ‘good’. I was happy with how things were… Then Mikasa started hanging around with Jean all the more- me being paranoid- it begun to feel like she’d rather be spending time with anyone else but me. You came back and Jean got a hold of you too; everything was just going so well for him and I should have been happy, I didn’t know he was lying about the record deal back then; I had nothing really to be mad at him for. I was just angry for the sake of feeling _something_ I guess. I really wanted to try keep on being okay with how things were- I did- but I just… couldn’t do it. It’s like this- this phobia I have that everyone is lying to me and now more then ever I _know_ it to be true.”

This is not the same Eren I once knew.

The other Eren, my first friend, the wise-crack, the out-spoken, his emotions could be read like a book. His sadness was so darn obvious anyone within a mile radius knew how he was feeling. His emotion was born out of something very real, out of the loss he felt and the freshness of the wounds. Now such scars should have at least somewhat healed but they haven’t and it seems like Eren just keeps on picking at the scab because he enjoys seeing himself bleed.

Now I’m struggling to read him at all- I don’t know what to do with him, how- how to help him- and if anything at all, it just makes me frustrated.

“So you figured just blocking everyone out would keep you from hurting yourself? How’s that worked out for you?” I snort bitterly, pulling my head away from the pond up to his face.

“… Ha, you even sound like Jean now.”

“Well fine, what about the first time then?” Eren’s head draws sharply to face my own, bewilderment and annoyance clearly painted across his previously solemn face and I can’t help but snap in pure vexation alone, “Don’t look at me like that, you know, when I left for England, when you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or my emails or my letters- when you cut me off!”

“What did you expect? _You_ left _me_ behind!” Eren’s eyebrows dip and his body tenses with aggression at his own failure to realise what he’s done wrong. He probably doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve seen something similar before- and much like his counterpart- fails to understand how alike he and Jean really are. “When I was struggling- when I was _‘depressed’_ if that’s what everyone wants to call it now! Where were you then?”

He still is depressed and we all know it, I knew it from the start. I understood how his father’s absence had plagued him and his mother’s death had ruined him.

I knew Eren never felt worthy of having the happiness his Godfather has and is continuing to try to give to him. I know even now how much Eren thinks he’s not worth the time and the care of others but I also know that all he wants is to be loved. It’s just hard to help him know it’s okay when he struggles in loving himself.

 

_“But that’s okay cus’ you still got me and I still got you, right?”_

But what about me? What has Eren done to be there for me? This is- it’s a relationship is what it is- or what it was anyway. Platonic yes of course, but still… well still something that deserved care, and mutual respect and- and wanting to be there for one another!

Yet I never had that no- I- I had nothing… even when I had Eren.

Is it selfish of me to think like this now? I’m perfectly happy without Eren with me, _super_ in fact- I have Jean. Then perhaps… perhaps I would be better off not trying at all.

I could just walk away right now, it’s not like I have anything to gain from earning Eren’s friendship again, not if things will just fall back to the way they were before I left. How stupid of me to think I actually wanted _that_ back!

 

Still I stay and I let the annoyance overcome me because when you tear away at all the skin and the flesh, right down to the bone I’m only here because I’m angry that Eren didn’t think my friendship was even something worth holding on to.

“I was alone too! You didn’t think I needed you after I left? You think it was easy for me to move half-way around the world without me only friend? I was scared! I needed _you_ for once and you left me!”

“Oh please it’s not like you had to deal with the same shit I did!” There he goes, dealing the same cards over and over again.

Well Eren guess what? You’re crap as a player and this gamble is going to be _mine_ for once.

“You have _no idea_ what I’ve had to deal with!” No one else knows the truth about the divorce, about my dad, it’s all been a secret for so long and there was no one around to burden with it, no one I felt close enough to trust with such a thing other than Jean. When I saw Eren’s face at the art gallery I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders, an overwhelming sense of hope that we could manage through everything together. That despite both of our pasts, that Eren and I could bond again and grow up to be fine and happy and _fulfilled_ , “And I thought I could come here and finally talk things out with you in a civilised manner. I guess I was wrong.”

“Well sorry I didn’t meet your expectations of me.”

He’s not even trying to find away through this. It’s like- it’s like he doesn’t even _want_ to make things right with me- with anyone!

“I don’t understand you, you- you push everybody away! Anyone who has even a fraction of care for you, you drop them like they mean absolutely nothing! Why do you feel the need to treat yourself like you’re so unworthy of having the love and attention of anyone who isn’t your mother or your father? Yet somehow you still crave it!”

“Nono- no you don’t _get_ to pretend like you understand how I feel about them!” Eren stands swiftly, pacing a few steps away up the grass verge before twisting angrily to face down at me, “That’s for me and me alone!”

“Yes you’re right Eren it is; but that still gives you no excuse to shove away all the people trying to help you get past all that!” I stand too, following swiftly behind him back up the slippery embankment, “You think they’ll keep on trying forever? They won’t trust me; soon enough everyone else will be tired of feeling sorry for you too, then it won’t just be Jean and Ymir you’ve got to contend with!”

“What’s the deal with you and him anyway? I mean is it official now or are you guys still wobbling on top of the fence too scared to make a move? I mean I’m guessing you love him, right?” Eren spins around, smirk evident across his face with such a disgusting level of arrogance it gives me nothing but the impression he wants to start a fight with me this time; as if he craves the attention that comes with the physical contact of having someone punch you in the face.

“Quit acting like you could even care!”

“Yeah but I do you see, I’m just _dying_ to know what it was about you that tipped Jean’s homo meter over the scale. I mean, _whoa,_ the guy did a good job of hiding it for so long!”

“Is this your way of trying to apologize?”

“I didn’t know I was here to give you one.”

“Not to me- to Jean! His one chance at all he’s worked for and you took it from him! That girl Ymir too, you ruined her career before it even started and you’ve ruined pretty much all your other relationships without so much as a second thought!”

“Look at you, ‘Armin the Peace-keeper’, did the others ask you to seek me out? To take a little venture over to the Dark Side and appeal to my better nature?” Eren paces back down, dipping his head so its nothing but a fraction away from my own, so close I can almost feel his sharp, hot breath against my face, “Who gave you the authority to stick your nose into my business anyway? I mean if you’re so mad at me then why did you even bother to ask to talk?”

“You know what? Forget it!” I draw back, knocking my shoulder against his own as I make swift work of storming ahead of him up the grass verge, “Jean was right, you are a lost cause. Call me again when you manage to retract your head from your ass!”

“You know I would but I just redecorated and everything-“ The last thing I see is Eren’s short grin as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket before I turn my back to make a quick exit.

“Go suck a dick!” I call, not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

“It seems I’m not the one who’s got that covered now am I?”

Eren’s words come out shallow and hoarse, fading more with each step I take yet the meaning still rings true through my ears. This is not ignorant arguing or false mockeries to anger me further- this is- this is just _cruel_.

Sharply I turn my head back to face him, face painfully screwed and eyes still pleading for Eren to pull through, yet with a blind, burning anger that it forces him a few steps back in shame at his own actions,

“YOU ARE A TERRIBE FRIEND!” I practically scream at him down the embankment. I can feel the anger overflowing inside of me; my body shaking with rage, my jaw so tense it’s gone virtually numb.

Eren drops back down a few more steps, eyes widened and hands floating up lost near his chest. He swallows thickly once and drops his head to the floor.

Yet I can’t even bring myself to care if he takes my words with a pinch of salt, or if they will simply result in ruining him all the more.

 

 

 

**Eren**

 

Terrible friend

Terrible

_Terrible_ \- friend

_Terrible_

You are- _terrible_

 

“ _Urh_ \- fuck-“ I fall against my bedroom cabinet, shutting the door briskly behind me with my foot before Erwin will even have the chance to engaging in injecting a single word into me.

Not that he has done yet anyway.

In fact, ever since the other night, nothing but complete silence follows inside this house.

Work is awful.

College is awful.

Home is awful.

I can’t even go to the Lyndhurst now- that is- awful- awful- I am awful- I- am terrible-

_“You are a terrible friend!”_

“Oh fuck.. fuckfuck-“ I pant as I slide down the side of the cabinet to the floor, rubbing my hands across my reddened face and pulling my palms to my forehead and- hit- hitting, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

 

I’ve destroyed everything. Either that or my life has become so sick of me it decided to destroy itself.

What can I possibly have left now? I’ve lost Mikasa… my friends… my- Levi- Erwin- Erwin doesn’t even know what to do with himself anymore.

“Stupid!”

I knew I was doing it, I knew I was causing everyone around me to feel pain and yet I never stopped myself. Never, I just- I thought I wanted them all gone- I thought I needed them to, that they would be better off without me.

That is true.

And now they are.

“B-bu-“ But I want them back, “ _U-uhh_ -“ I cover my mouth with my face, holding myself back from letting out what I know will be and endless stream of waterworks if I don’t keep- holding… on-

 

_“We should share the mic more often!”_

I had told Jean that once.

Back at Lenox Hill, the gig at the gallery. That was one of my moments of weakness- or what I perceived to be- allowing myself to become far too involved in those around me without thinking about how much hurt they could potentially cause.

I meant it too, I wanted the companionship of Jean, of Reiner and Connie too- my best guy-mates, my band. Band- band- I made the band!

I hungered for that interaction, that friendship I never had.

Armin was right; I treated him like a fool. He didn’t even have to tell me, I knew what he meant. I abused Armin’s kindness when I was younger, I latched myself onto his eagerness to make me smile without really caring about how he felt in return.

That wasn’t friendship. That was fraud.

 

_“You have no idea what I’ve had to deal with!”_

I still don’t understand what Armin meant by that. Jean must I’m sure.

Then again… it’s not like Armin knows anything that happened with Levi, so I guess we are- in some twisted way- on the same page for once. I’ve not told anybody about Levi, I’ve not even spoken to anyone that I could do so.

Marco, god knows where he is now, the last I saw of him was in the auditorium that afternoon. I don’t suppose he will emerge from his hiding spot any time soon. Much like I don’t feel content in leaving the four walls of my bedroom again for a very long while- or ever perhaps.

What would I do anyway? Carry on? With what? What do I even have left to carry on with? What do I- can I- what do I do?

“Stupid!”

 

Something so bizarrely contrapuntal in volume, a complete juxtaposition of my shallow breathing into my hands; it draws at my attention and my head snaps up towards the source.

My computer at the desk, I left it on it would seem. Skype- someone is calling- trying, who? Who would want to call _me_ now?

Painfully slowly I gather myself up, pushing up from the floor to my feet, stumbling tiredly across the room until I find myself dazed and collapsing into my desk chair. My shaking hand fumbles with the mouse absently before I even entirely process who’s making the call- I accept-

Tebogo.

“EREN! Hello my wonderful, wonderful young man! How are you this fine day?”

All I can truly hear is the dull buzz in my head- my, light- head-

“Eren- Eren can you hear me okay?”

_‘Terrible’_

I am terrible-

“Eren?”

A terrible friend- I did all of this-

“The connection is fine… Eren?”

“I-“ I am- sorry-

“Eren my boy? Eren are you okay?”

Sorry.

Am I?

Have I ever been? Okay… or sorry- both-

“T-Tebogo… I- I- n… no” With that it rises until it pools over, everything I’ve held in, the tears, the emotion, all in one fatal sob as I struggle to bring my hand up to my mouth in time to catch it, “no I’m not okay. I- um… I don’t think I’ve been okay f-for quite some time.”

I’ve finally reached it, my equilibrium, my fifth stage of grief. It’s only taken me eleven years to get here, this moment, now. I’ve denied it all for so long; I’ve definitely let my temper loose, I tried to bargain and I failed and I let the anguish overcome me for so long I thought that was simply normality.

But now I can finally accept it, my fault line, my fear. I’ve been so obsessed with being alone because I lusted at the thought of making myself do something I hate as payment for loosing my mom; not even for something simple that I could easily control. I punished myself over an inevitable factor of reality and I turned myself into this wasteful masochist as the result.

 

“Eren what ever is the matter?”  I manage to lift my head the fraction to spot Tebogo’s face within the screen, staring intently at my own with such an unfathomable urgency that he almost doesn’t seem real. Would he look at me like that still if he knew all of what I’ve done?

“I- I’ve ruined everything… I’ve lost it all… everyone-”

And I’m never going to get them back- never- not ever-

“Eren,” Tebogo’s interruption takes me rather by surprise, for as long as I’ve known the man he has never been one to be inconsiderate. He would constantly put others troubles and queries above his own, never settle down until everyone else was pleasantly satisfied.

I wish I could be a man like Tebogo. I wish I wasn’t so self-involved in my own pity that I allow it to damage the relationships I have with those around me, I wish I knew how to love myself enough that I could see the appeal people found in giving me their own attention.

“I don’t know what’s going wrong for you right now,” Tebogo’s voice is slow and honest, his face softens in compassion, still his posture stands firm, “but what I do know is that you are not the type of boy to give up.”

“B-but I have nothing left to get back- no chance…” I stammer with short breathe, rubbing at my eyes harshly with my palms.

“There is always a chance to turn things around Eren. You’ve seen it, countless times; you’ve helped achieve it for other people.”

What, when?

“This place where I am, you’ve seen it year after year, you’ve watched villages like this grow and the people grow too. People struggling to manage a roof over their heads, to feed their own families, to find clean water. People who couldn’t even begin to write their own names- and you’ve helped them.”

Selfish, that’s what I am.

How dare I wallow to this man, a man who has dedicated his life to those far less fortunate them himself- far less fortunate than me, then here I am crying about my own mistakes-

“Eren, I can see your face. Do not feel like you cannot pity yourself for what these people here are going through. You are allowed to look after yourself; you must, before everyone else. Otherwise how can you be expected to know what to do for others?” Tebogo rubs his arms, twisting his head to the window beside him, the sun shining vividly though, “It’s a brand new day here Eren, a world of possibility, a chance to begin again.”

“But I don’t know _how_ -“ I shake my head and drop my gaze, bringing my own arms about me and squeezing tight, “How can I make up for this?”

“I don’t know what you’ve done Eren, how bad it is, how it has affected the people you love. But what I do know is that you are bright boy, and even though things may seem darker now, the sun is going to come out again tomorrow and there you will have another morning, another chance to fix things. Some days are bound to be worse then others, that’s just the way humanity works. But know that things will always turn back round in the end if you let them. The world is constantly moving- it’s your job to catch up with it.”

Catch up- pull myself back up.

Yes.

_Yes_ \- but how?

“Some days are good Eren and some days are bad. I’m sorry that you’re having a bad day today, but you can try again tomorrow- try and make it a good day for yourself.”

What to do to fix this?

 “What’s the phrase? The one about the world always moving?” Tebogo ponders, hand on his chin.

What can I produce to mend this?

 “Ah, _‘The Circle of Life’_ , that’s it!”            

 

That’s it.

I know what to do.


	24. Act 2: Reiner / Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited because I've been looking forward to writing the next chapter for a long time, so this one was really fun in regards to setting it all up.  
> The Thanksgiving dance recital is finally here after talk of it since chapter 2! Hope you enjoy!  
> I also hope you enjoy the Jearmin too, I've not really posted anything as explicit before so I hope it's okay.
> 
> (also feel free to check the bottom notes where I've put some references to Sasha and Connie's performance)

**Reiner**

 

The thick scent of hair gel, deodorants, and the particles of compact make-up floating through the air do nothing of a good job in masking the anxious tension emulating within the dressing room. Anyone unfamiliar with the composition of this group would perhaps be under the impression that everything is fairly casual in nature. Armin and I have nothing to fear in the first place, and the concept of performing in front of the however-many hundreds of people just down the corridor doesn’t do much to frighten Historia- she’s rather collected in that manner. Sasha and Connie relish in the idea, in fact their loud voices and hurried movements practically radiate skittish excitement.

So that leaves Jean. He’s been bouncing his leg up and down non-stop for the past ten minutes; staring rigidly at his own reflection in the dressing room mirror as if he might find a way through the looking-glass and leave this world all together. Better sounding in Jean’s mind then going out there and dancing the vivacious Argentinean Tango in front of practically the entire student body.

 

“You nervous?” I ask despite knowing the answer already, rather frankly too. Though I question him all the same out of what I can only assume to be an aid in removing tensions, and so I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the dressing room door awaiting response.

“I can feel my heart in my throat.” Jean shudders, fixing up the collar of his black shirt with trembling hands.

“Jean don’t worry, you practiced really hard for this.” Historia offers with a kind smile as she brushes the last of her curled hair over her left shoulder, “Connie could you help me tighten up the straps of my dress.”

“Uh, sure.” Connie practically heaves the red fabric of Historia’s gown when appointed the challenge, “shit- sorry. That okay?”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute.” Sasha snorts, prodding the last of the pins into her hair, “You should see him trying to undo a bra. Not the most graceful of beings is our Mr. Springer.”

“I don’t need to hear about Connie removing your undergarments.” Jean rubs his hands across his face before slapping himself once, “ _Uhhaha_ get a grip man, I can do this!”

“La la la, _Bra, bra, bra, female, breasts, tampon, menstruation_! You’re such a child. Does he freak-out like this every time you walk past Victoria’s Secret Armin?” Sasha sings teasingly in an effort to make the boy cringe.

“Don’t answer that! And _I’m_ a child? You-“

“Quit it. Sasha finish getting ready. Jean stop panicking and try enjoy yourself would you?” I break the pair of them up, Sasha obliging easily with a back-handed comment about me being somewhat like her dad, while Jean continues his nervous pottering, now resulting in the guy clumsily knocking over half the styling products across the dressing room table.

“How am I supposed to enjoy myself when Historia’s girlfriend is going to put my head on a spike if I don’t win this prize money?”

“Yeah good luck with that, we’re going to crush you!” Connie and Sasha snort enthusiastically in almost rhythmic unison. Then, after spraying enough hairspray to have all six of us in the compact room heaving for oxygen, Sasha stands, brushing down her vibrantly green, petite chiffon number and slips her way over towards me by the door, “Now if you excuse us, it’s time we gather for roll-call. You better scram too if you wanna get a good view when we wipe the floor with _Assassination Tango_ over here ...no offence Historia.”

“You’re right,” I agree, checking my phone and pulling the door open, “Armin we’d better go, Bertolt says he’s snagged us front-row seats.”

“Yeah good timing, Annie just text me, she’s coming in with Ymir now too. Bye bye- and good luck!” Armin dips down swiftly to catch Jean’s lips before making his way out the door.

“Uhhh- _Jesus_! You’re already capturing my shame, why’ve you all gotta go and get the best seats in the house?” Jean hits his head down against the dressing room table with a deep groan.

“Wheelchair access really is a bitch.” I answer him plainly, closing the door behind me before Jean can fathom a response.

 

It’s a low blow really, we all know what happened to Ymir wasn’t overtly Jean’s physical doing. Then again nothing really has been solid with any of us since the accident, so I can’t exactly bring myself to care if he gets a little butt-hurt over any pissy comments being thrown his way.

If I’m being totally honest, the days all seem to blur together at the moment. It’s all almost too much for my brain to even keep up with.

Connie and I are hardly talking to Jean, who is hardly talking to Annie, who wants to talk to Mikasa, who doesn’t want to talk to anybody but Eren- who, evidently, is the one person she cannot. Ymir only talks to Jean when she is verbally harassing him over acing tonight’s performance and although Annie wants to talk to her ‘Windsor’, she hates his boyfriend for the mess he’s caused her roommate and now; Armin ‘Windsor’ Arlert, with Jean in tow, are evidently the co-captains of the _‘S.S. I Hate Eren Jaeger’_ luxury cruise liner we all seem to have boarded without any clear destination or time duration in mind.

I’m probably laying it a bit too hard into Jean right now, even if it is rather comical seeing him decked-out in his dancing shoes ready to take to the stage with Historia in what- except for the newly-redundant Christmas Musical- is considered the college’s most prestigious night of entertainment within the yearly calendar. The Thanksgiving recital is an open competition, so it’s not like Jean and Historia are going to be sticking out like complete sore thumbs or anything like that; just, well… Jean’s dancing arsenal is rather… lacking. I can only venture a guess that his performance is going to be mediocre at best, so Ymir should ready herself for disappointment now. Connie and Sasha on the other hand, even if it is all just fun and games to the two of them, well they’re not lying when they say they have a solid chance of bagging top place tonight, and that’s not just me having a biased opinion because I’m still rather bitter Jean never told me about his plans with that recording contract, I really do think they would win.

I mean I get it I do, I’m not as high-strung as Eren is, or as gullible as Connie can be, I knew from the start that the band would never be anything too serious. It was just recreational; it was fun and therapeutic and earned us some good money from time to time. I didn’t plan on the four of us becoming the next Monkees or anything like that, and Jean clearly didn’t either which was fine in all respects, I just wish he felt like he could trust us all enough to tell us the truth in the first place.

_‘Curiosity killed the cat’_ they say, and it’s true. Eren became persistent in uncovering Jean’s defensiveness, Jean became even more closeted, Eren became mad; then shit went sideways and now some of us have got the bruises to show for it. Literally.

 

*

 

“Perks of being a diamond member of the Cripple Cartel right now, I get to relish in Jean’s unsavoury excuse for a sacada without any obstructions what-so-ever!” Ymir smirks in a low whisper, head dropping down at the recital pamphlet from her wheelchair beside me at the end of the isle, “No offence Armon, I’m sure he’s still just _splendid_ in bed.”

“It’s Armin.” The short blond replies rather bluntly in just as hushed a tone, ignoring the rest of Ymir’s backhanded commentary, “And you should really give Jean the benefit of the doubt. He’s improved a lot in such a short space of time.”

“Right, sorry- I mean I still wanna call you Historia sometimes so it’s an improvement at least. But I hate to break it to you, I don’t care about how much Jean has improved, I just want him to win.” Ymir smirks wickedly, bringing her thumb up to her mouth to bite at the nail.

“You’re really asking for the impossible you know that right?” Annie intervenes, leaning across Armin, Bertolt and I to get as close to Ymir as she can from her seat, “Pablo Neruda will rise from his grave to grace the universe with his poetry once more before Jean becomes anything other than exceedingly boring.”

“Eyy good one chum, that’s a dollar for you in the nineteen-hundreds reference jar!” The two girls bump their fists together sharply before Armin raises his voice above the rest of our whispering tones,

“Hey! You too Annie? What is this _‘Pick On Jean Night’_?”

“You know you’re not supposed to talk this much in between acts?” I try and force myself between the trio, though it appears Bertolt and I are very much becoming benched in regards to this particular conversation, regardless of our rather unsavoury position directly in the middle of the three of them.

“Sorry Windsor but your boyfriend is boring as sin.” Annie shrugs rather unapologetically, though despite her seemingly harsh commentary I can hardly say I’m surprised- at either her or Ymir. This kind of sarcastic attitude is rather common when the two of them are feeling irritable- like cats in heat- “He’s hot I’ll give him that; I’d bang him, if he batted for my team I mean… and wasn’t such a hypochondriac… and didn’t use Google Play as his priority music source- that’s a bit of a turn-off.”

“Are you kidding me right now? What has that got to do with anything?” Armin shakes his head, baffled clearly. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s in for-

“Everything!” Annie struggles to repress the childish grin from her face despite Armin’s admirable defences,

“Plenty of people use Google music!”

“Yeah moms, and Geminis- and moms who are Geminis-”

“ _Ohmygod_ can you all stop talking?” Bertolt rubs his face tiredly and drops his head down between his knees with a deep groan.

Here we go-

“It makes him look like the sort of guy who cries with laugher at The Ellen Show whenever a Taylor Swift montage comes on and they play that one clip of her falling over on the bathroom floor, yeah you know the one. Or- or that he’s just come back from selling yard signs at a Hillary Clinton rally in the middle of some State that everyone kind of forgets about like Delaware or-“

“Oh for crying out loud-”

“I love you Armon-“ Ymir interjects,

“Armin-“

“-you seem like a swell guy, but Annie has a point. Your boyfriend is about as interesting a pencil eraser you can get out a Christmas cracker. And not even one of the good Christmas crackers that have the little jigsaw puzzles inside of them, I mean like one of those dollar-store Christmas crackers… and he probably doesn’t know how a clit works.”

“I hope you aren’t taking any of this to heart Windsor, you know we don’t mean this too seriously, right?” Annie coos, linking her arm under the blond boy’s, “We’re not saying the Jean isn’t talented- he’s an amazing singer, definitely better than any of the other guys-“

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” I interject with a sigh of defeat.

“-he just needs a little bit more _‘shazaz’_ in his life… like you, you are good for him- you have buckets of it. Here-” Annie reaches down into her bag and proceeds in retrieving out two bright red Dum-Dums, “have a lollipop.”

“Um… thanks?” Armin frowns awkwardly, accepting the offer and shoving the peculiar gift into his pocket.

“They’re great for practicing deepthroating.” Annie whistles, raising her eyebrows and bringing the candy into her mouth.

 Armin splutters atrociously in response, his face contorting to a deep shade of red as he diverts his gaze to anywhere but Annie sat beside him. Despite the teasing and taunts however, I think the new guy starting to understand that what he’s just been told about his boyfriend isn’t really meant to be understood at all- or taken to heart.

“Are all Americans like this?” Armin speaks up again when his initial embarrassment subsides.

“I thought you technically were one?” I raise in confusion,

“Well… I’m starting to think that’s rather debatable…”

“Don’t worry. I’d say this safari park of a friendship circle is pretty exclusive.” Ymir brings the topic to its well-needed conclusion.

Right, finally. Now it must be time for the next dance act to come up,

“Say Reiner,”

Or not- Christ-

“-I feel like I’m on a bit of a slope here, do me a solid it and catch me if I start rolling towards the stage. Unless that douche Eren actually decides to show up, then gladly you can let me be free so I can Roman chariot right up his ass.” Ymir snorts, thrusting her arm out towards the slinky smooth dance floor ahead of us, squinting through the numerous spotlights as if she’s already planning her direct route of attack.

“We’re inside, it’s solid ground.” Bertolt twists his head beside me and, like Armin, Annie and I, dips his brows in confusion.

“Actually you’re right, yeah. Must just be the overpowering aroma of your celibacy that’s getting to my head.”

“Enough.” I roll my eyes, diverting my attention back towards the stage in desperate hope the next act will just come on already. I don’t think I can suffer much more of this-

“Or maybe it’s the lack of ethnic range present within the group without Mikasa Ack-no-man around tonight. I’m like the token Latino friend right now. Hey, and I’m disabled too! Aren’t I just ticking all the right boxes on the diversity bingo this evening?”

“Would you just shut-“

“All of you quit it! Sasha and Connie are up!”

 

And up they were. Up, down, left, right, back, forth. You name it- they rocked it. It was ingenious in reality, their routine. The fact they decided to mash things up with an electronic mix really set the bar for all the other swing-dance students to follow, it really is difficult to match the two of them in terms of pure energy alone. They are so intertwined in their movements, complete mirrors of one another, more so it seems after their temporary split. If anything I think when they finally let loose and told each other how they really felt, it may have brought the two of them closer together than they ever had been before. And it’s not as if I can claim expertise in anything that doesn’t involve a drum kit or a wood-shop bench, but I do know without a doubt the critic’s- like the rest of the audience- fell head-over-heels in love with the pair of them as soon as Connie perfectly Ferris-wheeled Sasha _on top_ of the Judge’s table. They never have been much afraid of going that extra mile.

Now Jean… well, he was good, I’ll give him that. I couldn’t do it, and not just because Historia is about half the physical size of me, he really did actually have some dancing talent; something I can only liken both Armin and Historia to absolute geniuses for gracing him with. He was a little stiff, nervous clearly, and the performance wasn’t exactly anything out-of-the-ordinary in terms of _‘wow factor’_ ; like Burger King-Level fast-food, it’s not as bad as In-N-Out, but it’s no McDonalds; or perhaps I’m just really hungry. Either way, Jean and Historia’s performance ended up far from the worst, yet still rather mediocre, and the judges definitely agreed.

Sasha and Connie succeeded in keeping their promise; they stole the show and the prize money along with it. Clearly the win left them both gleeful for the remainder evening, endless photographs and interviews with news reporters, showered in flowers and praises, inhumanly –sized trophy cup between them. It’s going to do some good for them really, I’m sure there were plenty of talent scouts harbouring the audience tonight, and taking first prize does look great in terms of extra college credit. Despite their evening of stardom however, Sasha and Connie didn’t allow their five-minutes of fame to go to their heads, and evidently the two of them ended up splitting their prize money with Ymir for the sake of good sportsmanship, succeeding in ridding Jean of his over-hanging guilt for not taking the top spot like he’d originally been ordered.

 

*

 

“ _WE ARE THE CHAMPIONSSSS- OF THE WORLD!_ ” Sasha squawks, hopping down the three steps from the dance hall exit, swinging her arms wildly over her head before diving up onto Annie’s back unannounced.

“PARTY AT CONNIE’S PLACE TONIGHT!” Annie chimes in agreement, hauling Sasha up and running off ahead excitedly into the dark street.

“ _My_ place too.” I sigh; though struggle to keep the agreeing smile from my face as Bertolt and I help Ymir down the cluster of steps inside her chair.

“As much as I’d love a good _cerveza_ or two, I doubt I’m going to make it Downtown in this thing.” Ymir shrugs off the offer, Historia following shortly behind her, “It’s back to dorms for us. Later gay-tors! Make good choices!”

“Yeah I think I’m going to pass tonight too, my feet are killing me in these shoes.” Jean agrees, lifting a foot up in his hand before dropping it and making his way over to Connie and I, “Though before I go; I just wanted to say thanks for not totally rejecting me tonight. I know you two would much rather keep clear of all the drama going on.”

“I don’t wanna hear it! This is a negativity-free zone, lalalala!” Connie shoves his fingers in his ears and scrunches his eyes shut.

“I know, I know, and I’m not trying to make you forgive me or anything like that. I just- I want us to move past all this, even if it seems Eren won’t listen to any of us anymore… even Armin.”

“Yeah, well I’d prefer it too if we didn’t talk to each other like we’re freaking Uber drivers or something, it’s depressing to be around.” Connie agrees, unplugging his fingers from his ears, “I can’t remember the last time we had any real fun together.”

“It’s true; we are kind of forcing all the convocations we have right now. I guess it’s just hard to adjust without Eren around- missing the pack leader n’all.” I find myself agreeing solemnly, kicking my feet against the curb.

“Eren was not our leader.”

“Eren was our leader Jean, it was _his_ band.” I dispute with a deep sigh, “Listen, I know Eren isn’t coming around any time soon, but I’m sick of tiptoeing around the subject, I’m willing to shake this whole thing off. So when do we draw the line?”

“Well then what do you want to do?” Jean pouts yet seems to agree with me, Connie nodding and taking my offer on board too; this whole tension between us all has gone on for far too long. Jean is right as well, even if Eren is unwilling to come through and apologise, it doesn’t stop the three of us from making amends. 

“I dunno… leave Eren to do his thing, us to our own. I’m not saying we can go back to the way things were before, but we need to start afresh and move on.”

“Afresh, yeah, I like the sound of that.” Connie smiles, lifting both arms and giving Jean and I a quick punch into our respective shoulders.

“Well in that case… want to go for a run tomorrow morning, buddies?” Jean lightly shoves Connie back with a knowing and- if I’m honest- rather missed smile.

“I’m game for that… buddie.” I agree in contentment.

Yeah, The Three Musketeers, we can make this a reality. No more lying, no more faking what we are really feeling. Things are different now, we can mature. We’re all happy and in our own relationships, college work can go great if we strive for it. Yeah, this could work out-

“Jean, you coming? It’s cold out!” Armin’s voice breaks through the chilling air, and twisting around I spot his small frame off in the distance towards the campus accommodation blocks, hands cupped over his mouth to call out.

“Yeah I’m with ya- hey isn’t it this cold in England all the freakin’ time?” Jean’s voice begins to fade as he jogs off to reach Armin with a last small wave goodbye. It’s when Connie darts away in an effort to catch up with Sasha and Annie that Bertolt and I are left shivering and alone; which I take as my opportunity to enlace my hand with one of his own before following Connie and the girls down towards the campus exit.

 

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” Bertolt squeezes my hand with his own reassuringly.

“Why? I didn’t win any fancy trophy.”

“Yes but you forgave Jean for everything that’s happened. I knew you were still holding a bit of a grudge against him for lying about going after that record deal. It’s nice to see you guys finally deciding to move past it all.” He smiles, dipping down with a soft kiss to my forehead leaving an honest and rather apparent red tint to my cheeks that I don’t quite think I can claim as a result of the cold night’s air.

“Well this has dragged out for long enough,” I find myself shrugging, “I know Jean is sorry for the lies, and that not everything was as bad as miscommunication had it seem to be. I’m not like Eren, I’m most definitely not going to get angry at Jean for not wanting to _come out_ before he did, that was his choice to make alone. I’m just glad to be getting somewhere, you know? Time to wipe the slate clean before Christmas comes around- goodbye drama-“

The rhythmic chime of my cell phone interrupts me, and detaching my hand from Bertolt’s, I dive into my coat pocket to answer the-

Eren-

“Eren?” I answer in utter bewilderment. What- what is he doing calling _me_? We’ve not spoken since what happened at the auditorium… and after what apparently went down with him and Armin the other day; I wasn’t expecting to hear from him at all-

“Hey Reiner-“ He starts awkwardly, though oddly enough there is little hesitation in his voice, “I need you to do a favour for me.”

A favour? From me? What in God’s name-

“You know dude, I don’t exactly think you’re in much of a position to ask for an awful lot at the moment-“

“I know I know! Please, I just need you to do this one thing for me. I swear I am going to make everything okay again! I know what to do now!” The desperation in his voice is uncanny- yet somehow determined, not frightened or frustrated like it has been in the past- still, I don’t understand his reasoning in the slightest.

Make everything- okay?

How exactly does he plan on doing that?

“…What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it right now, but I _promise_ you I’m being serious- like, Laurence Fishburne serious. I just need you to get everyone together for me, at the pizzeria in Tarrytown tomorrow night-“

“I don’t know Eren… I mean-“ I interrupt him, rubbing at my head with my hand and turning to Bertolt in the hope of guidance, though- as expected he appears to be just as bewildered as me.

“Pleasepleaseplease Reiner, I’m begging you!”

Okay, so maybe he is serious. What then?

How am I going to be able to get everyone together in the same spot? I highly doubt Jean and Armin are going come if they know why, and as far as Annie has told me, Mikasa won’t even leave her room never mind the apartment- and- and even if I do, what plan could Eren possibly have that could fix his mess? Jean’s recording contract, Ymir’s accident, Eren’s own break-up- I don’t understand how this is going to work.

Yet somehow Eren does.

And in some crazy, ridiculous and indescribable way I feel inclined to trust him.

The tone of his voice, his _words_ \- he really means this, there’s no denying it. And he called out, _he_ was the one to engage me- maybe… just maybe this is worth a shot-

“I- Fine.” I give in nervously before my brain even has chance to catch up with my mouth and allow me to change my mind, “I’ll try my best okay? Yeah, tomorrow night, bye.” I hang up with a shrug of my shoulders as if Eren can actually see me in the flesh.

Marco’s place, Tarrytown, tomorrow night, everyone, Eren.

_‘Make everything okay again’_

God I hope I’m doing the right thing.

“What was that all about?” Bertolt asks eagerly, drawing me back to reality before I can ponder much longer.

I can’t construct a straight answer at all within my head.

What _was_ that all about? I’m not sure.

Pleading for forgiveness?

A chance at reconciliation?

I don’t know, I can’t think clearly anymore. Everything else seems to fail in comparison to the vitality of this moment, my choice whether or not to grant Eren with what he asks of me.

I was ready to give up on Eren only a few moments ago; ready to start afresh along with everybody else and try move on with life without bringing him along with us.

How cruel of me, of us… how wrong we may have been to think of leaving our friend behind.

Perhaps only time will tell if I’m making the right decision, that trying to work through this together may be beneficial or even just the _right_ thing to do. It seems like something only time will tell, so until then-

“I guess… maybe… there will be no wiping the slate clean after all.”

 

 

 

**Jean**

 

Armin has one of those modern-classical University bedrooms. The sort you see plastered across Instagram or posted on the Buzzfeed Twitter account along with the hashtag ‘goals’ subsequently followed by three heart-eyes emojis. It’s the sort of room that someone would say is unique if it wasn’t for the fact that those said artistic choices are becoming relatively mainstream; the artsy geometric-style posters, the itsy-bitsy hanging lights, the scented candles- all the intricate little details that make a room both far more personal as well as the same as everybody else’s. Somehow still, Armin manages to attach his own artistic flair to his tiny little space, and while I do pride myself on being an extremely clean person in regards to my room, Armin doesn’t do half-as-bad a job in that department either.

Books. He has a lot of them. Mainly artworks, a few textbooks, a handful of Thomas Hardy’s and a couple of battered old birdwatchers guides which he says had belonged to his late grandfather on his mother’s side.

 

“I shall do one thing in this life - one thing certain - that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die.” I smile, grazing my eyes over the assortment of books colour co-ordinated across Armin’s desk.

“Ibegyourpardon?” Armin snaps his head round spluttering, face bright red and- oh shit, shit-

“AGH- Far from the Madding Crowd!” I yell frantically, jolting my hand out to pick up the book, “blue section, next to Miquel Barceló!” I cover myself. Oh my god he is going to think I’m an idiot- what was I thinking just saying _that_ with no context whatsoever?

“Oh,” Armin gasps in somewhat nervous relief, “How do you know that quote?”

“I read!” I laugh off, slotting the book back into its original position delicately, “though I’m more of a Robert Kirkman fan myself.”

“Who?” Armin frowns, pulling off his coat and throwing it down onto the chair at his desk.

“That being the author of The Walking Dead.” I grin before something of a light wood texture hanging from the ceiling catches my eye and I look upwards, “This is new.”

“A turtle.” Armin muses, stepping close enough our chests are only a small distance apart, and lifts his hand up to inspect the ornament hanging above us, “A Cheloniidae Sea Turtle actually. Did you know their shells are made up of about 60 bones?”

“I see your interest in marine life stretches further than your paintings.”

“Well, Annie and I were searching through old thrift stores for a new throw blanket for her apartment, and I happened upon this little fella.” He smiles softly, flicking at the decoration once before dropping his hand back down, bringing it to my shoulder.

“Looks like I’ve found my competition.” I drop my gaze back down to Armin, who does appear to be moving ever closer by the second.

“Oh yeah? What you gonna do, beat up a reptile for me?”

“I’d beat up _all_ the reptiles.”

“Aha, good to know…” Armin’s eyes flutter shut as he brings his lips up to mine until he’s only a fraction away,

“ _Easy_ turtle boy.” I grin, my forehead dropping against his own, “I’ve haven’t even got my coat off yet.”

Armin grins again to that, connecting his lips to my own and pulling the coat from my shoulders in the process. Quickly the kiss seems to deepen, our mouths open against one another, my tongue sliding in ridiculously needily against his own and I pull my hands up quickly to either side of his face, breathing out deeply through my nose against his skin. I remember all over again how good it feels to be with him; every time makes me recall the first back on the balcony and how desperate I was to kiss him, how happy I was that I hadn’t misread our relationship.

How different it may have been, if 104th Element never had that gig at the gallery, if Annie and Armin didn’t happen to become friends for the sake of one class project. Armin could have still hated my guts right now- I his own- if we never hand the chance to get to know one another properly.

It’s selfish really, horrid perhaps.

Yet I can’t help but admit it to be true; that I thank God every day for Eren not wanting to involve himself with Armin, that I could have the opportunity to do that myself.

 

It seems rather sudden, and takes me by complete surprise, when I feel a tug at my trousers, and all-too-fast for me to keep up with, Armin manages to unlatch both my belt buckle and my zipper, and slides his palm beneath my boxers until he’s got me in his hand.

Pulling back with a sharp gasp try miserably to collect myself, and Armin too, short of breathe, rests his open mouth against my cheek, close to my ear,

“Ha- I _want_ you-“

“W-what?”

“I want you out of these… freaking tight tango pants...” Armin chuckles lightly, his voice deep yet sensitive, and my heart feels fit to burst at the sound of it.

Painfully slowly Armin kisses his way from my cheek, down my jaw and to my neck, though most my of attention appears diverted to the intensity of the friction as he continues to palm at me, ever so slowly wrapping his hand round my increasingly hardening erection.

“Oh- _fuck_ -“ I practically whine, which he laughs at again. It’s embarrassing really, how vocal I become every time he somewhat touches me, and I fear if this goes any further the whole damn dormitory floor is going to hear me moaning like a fucking porn star. In my defence it’s been so long, and he is just so- so-

“… And you were telling me to go easy…” Armin whispers teasingly, nipping down ever-so lightly at the flesh of my neck.

It all hastily becomes a blur of reality from there; and soon enough from kicking off my shoes I find Armin gently pushing me backwards until my legs hit the side of his bed and I collapse sat down, dragging my hands across Armin’s front before resting them at his hips. Sinking down, Armin straddles at my waist, eyes darkened and lips parted. Carefully he brings his arms down to the material of his own shirt, pulling it up and over his head before discarding it to the floor.

I’ve not seen his chest bare like this since the first time we met, back at the shower block. Perhaps that is a good thing really; it’s like Armin had said a few weeks back, why should we be scared after all that has happened, even if things do sometimes seem to be moving at lightening speed?

His features are soft and pale, similar to that of his face and arms; there may be a little more colour in the light, though it’s rather hard to tell under the cheaply lit college-issue lamp hanging above us. His torso, his stomach, it’s all small and far-less broad than my own. Though it doesn’t make him fragile, his body remains aged properly like the rest of him, and a thin sheet of muscle defines his abdomen and triceps. Everyone calls him small, thinks of him as weak and therefore instantly innocent. They liken him to Historia with a structural reflex and although that may not be such a bad thing, it doesn’t do anything in justice for Armin himself. There are freckles at his shoulders, tiny blemishes at his sides, lightly tinted hairs on his arms, all the perfectly normal aspects of a human being that are seen as not beautiful enough or something worth trying to take away because they are supposedly imperfect.

But that’s not true.

He is wonderful just the way he is, I’m not going to treat him like some fragile baby or some petite version of a man because he isn’t.

Armin is witty and clever and sexy and _fucking insane_ , yet I take immense pleasure in everything about him. I want nothing more than to be with him like this, now, no matter how nervous I might be. Armin is perfectly imperfect exactly the way he is and I think I want to say the words, the three little ones which we are told not to take for granted and I don’t- and I think that’s also what’s stopping me.

The last thing I want is for Armin to think I love him _only_ because I think I might have him. So I think I can wait, for now at least, because everything all seems to be moving far too fast and my prudent perfectionist nature won’t be satisfied until the timing is just perfect. Besides, there’s definitely more than one way I can show him that I care.

 

Armin’s hips begin to gracefully move against my own, back and forth in an agonizingly slow fashion, and I can feel him getting hard above me too. Our breathes become louder and increasingly urgent the more Armin rolls his hips down against mime and I reach my hands up, pushing the few blond strands falling in front of Armin’s eyes, tracing the side of his face before hooking my hand around the back of his head and pulling his lips against my own again.

“Mf- Jean-“ Armin sighs against my lips, “Are you… are you sure this is okay?”

“What?” I pull back. Wait, is he having second thoughts? He seemed really into it just a second ago- “Why, are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine- just….” Armin pulls back further, eyes dropping down not to face me.

“Hey, hey come ‘ere what is it?” I whisper softly, stroking at his cheek with my thumb.

“It’s uh; it’s something Annie said earlier. Back at the dance hall…”

What’s Annie got to do with any of this?

I let him continue without pressuring him, allow him time to find the words and what he truly means to say,

“Well, her and Ymir were joking around, calling you a Gemini-mum or something, I don’t really know...”

“Ha! I don’t recall birthing any children if that’s what you’re worried about.” I laugh, shifting my arms down to rub at Armin’s sides. This is what he was worried about? Annie and Ymir making silly little jokes about me? I’m definitely used to that- “And I’ll have you know I’m an Aries.”

“No no it’s just, well then Annie told me she thought you lacked _‘shazaz’_.”

“Sha-what?”

“You know, like _‘unf’_. She said that was why I was good for you. Because I’m a better person or whatever…”

“And that upsets you, Annie thinking you’re a good person?”

“No, it upsets me that she would think you’re not!” He half-yells, shaking his head, “I mean… this whole time, I’ve been under the impression that I was, I dunno, ‘tagging along’. You have all these amazing friends and achievements, you have a band and had a record label interested in you and I guess- I guess I just felt like _I_ was the lucky one. It just made me a little self-conscious, that I might not be what she thinks I am… and that I’m going to disappoint you. Because I’m not any better, I’m just _me_ and then there’s _you_ and you’re so talented and amazing, you know? Enough so that it even made Eren think his girlfriend would rather be with you and-“

“Armin.” I interrupt him, and his voice falls short, continuing to stare down at the same blank space between us, daring not look me in the eye. “I’m not perfect. Theoretically speaking, I don’t really think anybody is. I can’t even figure out how to make amends with my best friend, so how can I, of all people, be any sort of saint?” Armin shrugs to that, biting at his lip, “…Though I do think Annie is sort of right, about you I mean.”

“What?” Armin looks back up, confusion plastered across his face.

“That you’re good for me.”  I continue to brush my fingers up and down his sides, slowly moving them round to his back and then down his thighs resting atop mine, “You see, I like being around you… and I hope you like being around me too. So basically, don’t worry about letting me down, because I really, _really_ enjoy dating you. _You_ , as you are, that’s all I want right now. So don’t you go and apologise to me, okay?” I conclude with one squeeze of his slender hips and lift him up slightly further onto the bed with me.

“…Okay.” Armin smiles softly, soon nodding in mutual understanding, drawing his hands down across my chest.

“Good, now-“ In a quick act of revenge I flip the two of us other in one fellow swoop, planting Armin down onto the bed, his head at the pillows, then placing my legs either side of him. “You don’t think you’re super awesome, I call bullshit Windsor! And I’ll prove it to you right now! Okay?” I grin wildly, jabbing my fingers into his sides in an attempt to make him laugh.

“ _Ahaha_ , alright alright! O-okay…”

Mission successful.

“Though first- Can I ask you one last thing?” I let out quickly, and I’m not quite sure where on earth inside of me it came from; only that it has been a question plaguing me for almost as long as I’ve known Armin, and I wonder now that he has opened up to me just that little bit more if I may finally be able to understand his answer.

“What is it?”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I guess I’m just rather curious-” I start, lowering myself down onto one of my elbows, tangling Armin’s golden hair between my fingers.

“Go on…”

“Why don’t you want people to know you can sing? Like, I know I’ve only heard you the one time but Armin- you have an amazing voice.”

“Oh, well I…” Armin looks down to my chest, tugging absently at the buttons of my shirt, “I think it’s just a nervous thing.”

“What? You mean like stage fright, are you kidding me? You are one of the most eccentric people I know, you fucking heckled a guy in the middle of Walmat!” I try stop myself from laughing, because clearly this is something serious to him, though I can’t help but find the whole ordeal rather ironic.

“I do love singing, just not on a stage. It’s the fatalness of it all, ya know? With a painting, I never have to worry about trying to impress anybody on the spot. If something goes wrong I can just go over my work or try again tomorrow and there’s nothing really in my way except for the occasional deadline. When I paint, I get to do it on my own accord… I guess the thought of singing on a stage in front of however-many people like you do just isn’t for me. I mean, don’t you ever get scared about screwing up in front of all those crowds?”

Armin’s brightly-timid features, his softened eyes, curious words, they all make my heart melt. I guess I never really think about singing as something to be too frightened over. Not any-old performance anyway. I mean yeah, when I knew Ian was watching me in the crowd at the gallery, I was set on-edge; but that was only because of whom he was, of what he was offering me- such nervousness doesn’t exactly ensue outside of that.

We all have moments of nervousness- I guess it’s just our own choice whether or not we want to act on these fears, try over come them, rather than let them take control us and those we love.

“I think… that it’s because I’m scared that I can do it.” I answer him honestly, shifting my arm from above his head to take hold of one of his hands and bringing it up to my face, kiss him at the knuckles, “It’s something my old man taught me, to treat fear as a good sign, a sign that I’m doing something that’s important to me, otherwise I wouldn’t be so worried about getting it right. It’s like now; you asked me if I was okay, and I said yes because I was, and I still am. Still I’m nervous too, who wouldn’t be? But I do know I’m making the right choice, and that’s because it’s with you.”

“Wow, aren’t you poetic?” Armin smiles, his face dipping into my chest.

“It’s the truth. Please don’t doubt your greatness anymore, especially over me, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re awesome….” I drop my head down with one sharp kiss to his forehead, which turns into a few more to his lips-

“Mmm-“ Armin sighs happily, and soon enough I work my way down gradually, pecking softly at his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, and the temptation is all too indisputable to refuse biting down against the skin- Armin gasps again,

“Say it, say you’re awesome.” I murmur lazily into his skin, continuing my way down, his chest, his abdomen, bit by bit, pulling down at the fabric of his trousers.

“You’re awesome…” I spot Armin’s eyes fluttering shut once I’ve discarded his trousers, mouth open by the bones of his hips-

“No-“ I laugh softly, kissing softly at the insides of Armin’s thighs. His breathe becomes louder each time time I do, melting into blissful sighs, each one bringing me a new level of bewilderment because it is _me_ doing this to him- causing him to slowly unwind at my teasing-

“ _I’m_ awesome. I’m- I’m, _aha-_ “ Armin’s voice seems to become lost inside his throat as I brush my open mouth over him through the fabric of his boxers, soon beginning to suck, “Jean, fu- please-“

He doesn’t need to ask me twice and so rather hastily I rid him of the last of his fabric between us, quickly in exchange for my mouth.

“Oh- _god-_ “ Armin continues to moan out quietly, different words of incoherent nonsense, curses, my name, each louder and louder as I suck at the tip before dropping my head down and- hollowing my cheeks- take all of him into my mouth. I can feel myself becoming painfully hard with every noise Armin makes as I grace my tongue up the base of his cock and swirl it around the tip.

I try keep my eyes glued to him, to take each movement in, the way his back arches upwards, how he grabs at the bed sheets, soon enough of the lacing of his fingers into my hair, his pulling only making me moan around him in response.

“ _Fuck_ \- Jean,” Armin’s hips buck up into my mouth which does nothing but drive me fucking insane- god he’s so hot, I need him, “it’s so good-“

Never-mind underage drinking or smoking a little bit of pot- Armin himself is so beautiful, that is what should be made illegal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for Sasha and Connie's performance, although I had originally planned on the two dancing to more of a classic swing number- like something from Jerry Lee Lewis- I thought it would suit the pair of them a bit more to switch things up with a modern dance tune instead.   
> I've been listening to a lot of Major Lazer for inspiration, this song in particular which I like to imagine they would preform to- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHZEtGS9XFo
> 
> Also I really get this sort of vibe for their dancing style (its actually kind of scary how it fits with the audio of the first link)- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ueJ4-lTa1s


	25. Act 2: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, probably the longest chapter so far! This was probably one of my starting points when deciding to write this fic, working all the narrative around this to reach this point. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I have my exams coming up in a couple of months, so this may very well be the last chapter I post before mid-May, or perhaps even June. But if Rutherfordium does take a small hiatus, then I am satisfied with having it reached this point. 
> 
> Music reference- https://youtu.be/E5yK-3iUGQE?t=34s

**Eren**

 

It’s like I am becoming increasingly more aware of the reality of my position with each seemingly new, yet obviously familiar face that steps in through the shop doors. I know each time without even looking up first, the poignant ring of the bell chimes atop the door-frame with each ambivalent body that steps through into the pizzaria. That ring alone is my reception call; my indicator that another one of them has come to hear what I have to say, perhaps even willing to give me a second chance.

It had been intensely awkward to begin with; Reiner and Connie were the first to arrive, Bertolt and Sasha both in tow. Not one of the four dared mutter a word, simply greeted me with a small nod and took their place at the long table I constructed within the center of the restaurant. I had been thankful in reality that the place was closed; Marco’s grandfather was so undoubtedly kind in letting me host- what is to his knowledge at least- a roll-call meeting for a ‘super-secret college project’.

I doubt Marco has told the Methuselah, yet venerable man, an ounce of detail about learning the truth of his parents death from Levi. He’d hate the idea of being pitied by the only family he has left, more than he does from anybody else that is.

 

“Can I… uh can I get anyone a drink?” Marco stammers apprehensively, his distained face dipped down out of eye-shot of both myself and of his grandfather, who stands kneading dough at the other side of the open-counter. Marco has practically taken a vow of silence against me, though for that I can’t exactly blame him. He knows that I know about Levi, I had to give him that much information at least- but I still don’t exactly feel obliged to be intruding myself in on his means of coping with the information he has been given. No, not yet, I should give Marco some space, some time- much like I am sure he is giving me.

There’s a melancholic irony in that really. Marco and I, we’ve always been a sort of shoulder to lean on for one another. We both understood what it was like to grow up without our biological parents; both understood the toll it can have on a person, even if one is surrounded with people who still care just as much about their well-being.

“No- thanks though, Marco…” Mikasa smiles politely beside me, and through the corner of my eye I sense her head turn to face me just for a moment, before falling back down to the table surface.

It had been Mikasa’s almost instantaneous reaction to sit beside when she arrived with Annie, even out of the entire length of the formulation of tables. Wordlessly she perched, her hands uniform in her lap, knees bouncing up and down on occasion out of what I can only assume to be pure nervousness.

I can relate to that. The hair on the back of my neck, it feels so stiff, heavy almost. The dryness of my throat, sweat in my palms, if I hadn’t felt the necessity in learning to control most of my panic attacks at a younger age, I doubt I would have been able to formulate so much as one coherent sentence since the last time I saw Mikasa.

_“Eren please talk to me- I am trying here! I want to move past this, I really do!”_

Perhaps she had been telling the truth back then, before I darted off into that cab in nothing but a blinded desperation to escape.

I was _terrified_.

Not of her, no, myself, yes.

I was terrified of what was happening to me, terrified she would judge me for what I was becoming.

 

“Shouldn’t we just, _start_? Do ya even think they’ll show?” Connie raises skeptically, turning his head to the door and then back towards the others, shuffling in his chair to readjust himself, though remaining just as uncomfortable all the same.

“They’d better.” Ymir sniffs, rocking back in her own chair as if she’s bored of the entire situation more than anything. Though occasionally she retorts in sending me an off-handed scowl, I’m not in much of a position to argue over that either, not after what I did to her. I think about the only thing holding the girl back from making a dart for my neck is that of Historia’s rather placid presence beside her. 

“I’m missing slam-poetry for this.” Annie sighs, propping her elbow up onto the table and resting her chin to her palm.

“You do poems?” Reiner frowns across from her.

“No, I only go cuz’ the guy who runs it is seriously fine. Works in the store I get my sheet music from. _Mmf_ , sweet man-bun...”

Their half-hearted convocation seems to deteriorate and the room returns once again to its uncomfortable state of dormancy, disrupted only by the faint hum of Italian acoustics emulating from the kitchen, and the occasional snap of gum inside Sasha’s mouth.

Perhaps Connie is right, maybe we should start.

But even then… this won’t work without Jean, he needs to come otherwise- otherwise I’ll never be able to make things right again. I need him so I can do this.

As a matter of fact, not even just so my bat-shit insane plan of action can be put into place, no… I just need Jean to be here with me right now. I’m so _tried_ of losing everybody; my mom, my dad, Levi… Erwin won’t even talk to me as of late- I can’t loose these guys too, not while I might still have a chance to turn things around.

 

Everyone’s heads jolt up in almost a rhythmic unison when the doorbell chimes a final time, and I find myself standing hastily to collect myself as Jean holds the door open for Armin to step through, following quickly behind. Though in an almost instantaneous reversion, Jean pulls Armin backwards when his eyes catch sight of me,

 “Ah, nope-“ He hurries, in a pathetic attempt to escape. Though before I can so much as plead with them to reconsider, Ymir’s voice calls out in a loud and truculent manner,

“Hey! Stop right there Kurt and Blaine, you can sit both your asses down.” She clicks and points to the two empty seats ahead of her, “I switched onto crutches a week early to be here, you ain’t going nowhere!”

Armin looks back at Jean and then over to me, his face blank and emotionless, though even so, with a sigh the blond seems to give in and follows Ymir’s instructions is making his way over to take a seat; practically tugging at a rather reluctant Jean along with him.

“That’s it Armon- you take a seat.” Ymir continues to point until the blond lowers himself slowly into the seat opposite,

“It’s Armin, two syllables, how do you still not know?”

“I’ll be frank, sometimes I forget you even exist so-“

“We got a Starbucks _yesterday_!” Armin flays in frustration, concluding with a lazy rub of his hand across his face and sighing out loudly,

“Oh... _ohh_ yeah, I may have been just a teeny-weeny bit out-of-it on all the pain-killers I've been taking.” Ymir leers, sharply disrupted by an unapologetic kick to the shin from Historia underneath the table, as if instructing her girlfriend to try and behave herself.

 

Frustration. That’s the only emotion I can imagine myself to have been fathoming during mine and Armin’s confrontation at the Lyndhurst. Though the past few days seem to have passed me by in such a hasty blur that I don’t always deem myself to be in an appropriate state of understanding what is running trough my head.

Levi hasn’t returned to the house, not once, even to get his belongings. I can only presume he has his wallet with him, must be paying for somewhere to stay. Though he did keep so much hidden from Erwin and I for so long, who knows if he has any family, friends maybe, someone in the area to lend him a room.

It had been plaguing me, Levi’s whereabouts, it still is. If he is safe, if he will ever come home. Would Erwin let him even if he did? When Armin confronted me I allowed that anxiousness to turn into vexation; I let that same emotion out onto him, figured:

_‘Hell, I’ve made a name for myself as a repellent of pleasantries, might as well fuck up the livelihood of yet another person I care about, of a person who cares about me.’_

What good could I do for Armin at that point? In agreeing to what he said about apologizing for everything that has happened just in the hopes it might make me feel even just a little bit better- would that really have solved anything with that alone?

No, I couldn’t be told what to do, I needed to understand on my own terms, what I have done, why I am such a _‘terrible friend’_ … and now I do, now I know how to fix all of this- or at least I hope so.

I am capable of change; I know that now, I just need them to-

“-Give me a chance. Please… just let me say what I have to say.”

“And then?” Jean grunts, falling back into his seat with crossed arms.

This is not going to me easy… I know that-

“And then… you can- you can go back to hating me, if you want to. But, I just- I need to tell you-“

That I’m scared.

That I’m lonely.

That I need them.

“That I’m sorry- okay? I’m… I’m sorry for way I’ve treated you all.” I stammer, looking down to my feet with a deep, dry swallow before adjusting my stance to Jean’s gradually softening lour alone, “I’m sorry I accused you of being an untrustworthy friend. And I’m sorry for starting a fight… for making you loose that recording contract, all out of my own pathetic jealousy. I swear to you Jean, I will do _anything_ in my power to make this up to you… I’m going to make this all alright.”

Jean’s breathe catches visibly at this throat, his eyes dart down and back up in one swift movement and he bites harshly into his lip.

He nods.

“And Ymir-“ I turn my head to the opposite end of the table, “I’m sorry that my brash actions have cost you what it has. And I know I can never reverse what has already happened, but just know… know that I have never regretted any action more in my life then letting my anger get the better of me, of letting it hurt one of my friends like it hurt you.”

I’m right in my expectations that my apology to Ymir doesn’t stretch out to such an extensive degree. She turns her head away from me with a click of her tongue, signifying the rather obviously apparent factor that my verbal apology pales in comparison then perhaps it will to any of the others. What I have to offer her in return, if even possible, is something far more physically valuable than just my words alone.

“Armin-“ I sigh, blinking back some of my sullen sentiment and shakily diverting my attention to my oldest friend, “I’m sorry that I never appreciated you like a should have. You are- a _beautiful_ person… and I am ashamed of myself for not reminding you of that, for not telling you how much I do care. I let… I uh-“ I croak, shaking my head, “I know I let my emotions get the better of me. I tried to project everything I was feeling about my family onto you- I acted as if pushing you away might actually get rid of some of that pain, when really all it did was make it a hell of a lot worse.”

“…Okay.” Armin mouths in a somewhat saintly understanding, his delicate smile presenting me with such a similarity to what I knew in my younger years. In his features it shows me- like it shows everyone- that he is willing to provide you his full- undivided attention if needs be. I am thankful for that, and I need him to know from now on I want to be there for him too in the way was always there for me, even when he was all the way across the ocean and I had failed to realize it.

“And…” I waver, pulling my head down to Mikasa beside me, and when I do I notice her already staring intensely right back up to me. Her eyes, glassy and widened, it’s so rare for me to actually see her cry that catching sight takes my breath away even more so than she does already.

She is so strong that sometimes I forget she’s still human. So level-minded, so independent, Mikasa never so much needed the support of her parents, not in the way I craved it anyway. Her folks have faith in her too, they trust in the way she is, left her to manage on her own because they know she is capable of it, while they’ve gone off to do what they always dreamed of, backpacking around Eastern Asia apparently, and all the while it never so much as fazed Mikasa.

 I let that power she has overwhelm my expectations of her; I forgot that sometimes she needs someone to support her too like she supports me. I let that idea consume me, the idea thought that,

_‘God, what am I doing? You are going to loose her if you can’t- just- step it up!’_

And then I lash out at other people, enough so that I begin to question if I am worth anyone’s love and care in the first place.

She could do so much better than me- she deserves so much more-

“Mikasa I- I’m so sorry for accusing you of being unfaithful I-“

“No Eren.”

What?

Her words catch me off guard, and I draw back a few inches in surprise. This is not in my plan-

“You are done apologizing, okay?” Mikasa confirms solidly, her hand reaching out and taking hold of my own.

“Uh- no- I’m not, I uh- I still haven’t-“

“No Eren that is enough. Let me apologize to you.” What? Why- I, don’t deserve it, I have been a horrible person I- “You can thank Annie for finally opening my eyes.”

“You’re welcome!” Annie hollers before Sasha promptly shoves her in the gut, diverting everyone’s- fuck _really_ everyone’s- attention back towards Mikasa and I at the far end of the conglomerate of tables.

“Eren I’ve been treating you like I treat a damn doctors appointment. Like you are just some _‘thing’_ that is part of my life without really understanding the position that you hold. I let myself become so fixated on everything else around me that I forgot to treat you like a human being.” Mikasa pulls me back down into my chair, turning her body fully to face my own, blocking away everybody else in the room and giving me what seems to be, her full and honest attention, “You are so important to me Eren, and I know you think you’re not worth it but please believe me that you are! You need to understand that you are worth all the love and affection we give you because we really do care! And I- _I_ need to understand that I am not just entitled to you like I am with the air I breathe or the ground I walk on. I need to understand that you- that _we_ \- are something we have to work for. And I want to; I do because I love you.”

I cannot say I exactly understand her reasoning- from my perspective at least- I’m just a sorry excuse for a friend, for a boyfriend. But even so, Mikasa still thinks that I’m worth her time-

“Mikasa is right.” Reiner speaks up before I have much more time to process the information given to me,

“W-what?”

“We need to apologize to you too. We have been awful friends to you Eren- and I don’t want you to butt in and try to defend us, or say that you deserved everything that was coming to you. You didn’t; we were the ones not listening to you.”

“ _’Not listening’_ , what was he saying?” Ymir scoffs, twisting her head between us all.

“He was calling out for help.” Connie seems to reach the bizarre realization too, that they should apologize… to _me_?

“And we were too blind to see it.” Armin nods to my surprise, and he turns his head to Jean for confirmation, who, though still seemingly reluctant, doesn’t contort his face with half as much of the disdain Ymir continues to radiate.

“We should have been there for you Eren. We should have caught on sooner about how negative you were feeling, should have tried to help instead of loosing our temper the way we did.”

“… You wouldn’t have known.” I feel myself welling up again, shaking my head and dropping my gaze.

“But we do now, alright? So… come out with it.” Reiner affirms, pushing himself forward in his chair closer towards me.

“W-with what?” I murmur apprehensively. What is there to say now, none of this has gone to plan at all-

“You told me on the phone that you know how you are going to fix this for everyone. Now, if this is still the Eren that I know… than I’m guessing this is going to be something a little bit crazy?”

Ha, oh it is alright.

Though oddly enough, with all that has been said- maybe now more than ever- this could be our best opportunity.

“It is _a lot_ crazy…”

“Are we talking ‘prison-type’ crazy or the ‘get kicked out of college’ sort of crazy?” Sasha pops her gum between her lips, faint grin playing on corners of her mouth,

“Depends how things turn out by the end of it.” I smile for the first time- honestly and pleasant- honestly in what feels like a century. It’s still only minuet, but it is improvement all the same. It- it feels _good_.

 

*

 

“Nope! No way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“I think it sounds fun-“

“Yeah _‘ha ha we got expelled!’_ What a riot! No thanks.”

Perhaps I should have expected this reaction a little more so than did within my head. I may have been slightly too optimistic in my naivety.

“So, let me get this straight-“ Jean screws his eyes shut momentarily and points his finger out across the table towards me, “you want us to essentially drop everything we are doing, right? And give all our free time up to put together an _entire musical_ , in a _month_ , without any of the faculty knowing?”

“…Yes…” I mean, that is kind of it. And I have to admit, it does sound a little bit more insane when Jean says it-

“ _Jesus Christ_.”

“This is stupid!”

“Not happening, no way!”

“Hey!” I call out, reaching my hands outs to settle the ten of them around me, “Hey come on, the plan is not _that_ bad! Where have all your free-spirited attitudes got to?” 

“I think it left a while ago, you know, out the door? Shortly followed by my sanity!”

“We can do this guys, it could really work! I mean, if we can get some talent scouts together than they will be able to see Jean and Ymir in action, even without West Side Story! As long as the show has M.R.S’s name strapped to it, it’s bound to get some sort of attention right?”

“Yes Eren but what then?” Jean smacks his palm to his forehead, “Now I don’t mean to alarm you, but I don’t think you quite appreciate the amount of work that goes into a theatre performance. You saw how much time Professor Levi was putting in before. This sort of thing, it needs time, and only about half of us here actually sing _properly_ , never mind acting and dancing along side,“

“It doesn’t have to be big.” It just needs to be incredible.

“It’d require a lot of people as stage-hands-“

“We can manage if we double-up.” I’m sure I can coax Hanji into giving us a hand too, especially in regards to keeping it all on the down-low and as far away from Erwin as possible.

“And a band in the orchestra pit-“

“Already taken care of. I spoke to the post-graduate guys, Petra and co. They said they’ll help out in any way they can if I think it could bring Levi and Erwin together again.”

“It may just be me who’s a little bit selfish over here;” Annie cuts between Jean and I, her gaze gracing between each sceptical face decorating the table, “but besides helping out Jean and Ymir’s performing reps, and maybe the fucked up relationship between your Godfolks- what exactly is in it for the rest of us?”

I’m kidding myself if I don’t think I’m asking a lot from everybody. They are right to be cautious, dismissive of the idea even. When I presented my plan to the rest of Levi’s theatre class in the hopes of obtaining at least a little practiced talent, they all turned me down profusely- even those of the original production’s leading cast- out of fear of loosing their scholarships for the insubordination. Besides, what benefits would it hold for any of them? I doubt many are particularly fazed by Ymir’s position, perhaps a few may even be relishing in the thought of loosing an aggressive competitor such as herself. As for Levi; well, what student is really _that_ phased by the goings on of their teacher’s private life?

For these guys however, they are familiar with Ymir, with Jean, me, we are friends- or at least I still hope so. It’d be a more comforting thought to know that the benefits of helping me in doing this would somewhat outweigh the materialistic components of the negatives.

And who am I fooling if I think all of this is just about some crazy little show? I know now, and I can accept it, that I really do need these guys in my life- and I think that maybe part of my senseless idea stems from me wanting to _get_ that, and in thinking that if we actually work together on something as crazy as this, that I might finally be able to appreciate that I do want to be happy, that I don’t want to continue hurting myself for any longer.

“…Fun.” I half-laugh, biting at my lip before drawing my gaze up to Annie, “The chance to be able to say _‘I was a part of something that matters with the people I most care about, the people I want to raise my children to know and to love in the same way I do’_. To know that, despite how tough things get for any of us, that we can still work together and make something good from a bad situation. To just say _‘fuck you!’_ to anyone who thinks they can tell you who we can and cannot be.”

That last one seems to strike something inside of Annie. It’s no secret that rumours about her spread like wildfire across campus, that she _‘sleeps around’_ with _‘anyone that moves’_. She knows them too; tries to act as if it doesn’t really get to her when in reality this whole harsh, sarcastic exterior of hers is just a front to try kid herself and everyone surrounding that nothing can phase her. I know that’s what she does; I’m very familiar with the act of deceiving myself to think I’m not concerned with what people think of me.

But I’m sick of pretending like that now. I’m fed up with trying to excuse myself as not worth anyone’s time of day. I _want_ to care, yet not let that thought take control of my anxieties. I want to be a part of something with every one of these guys, to cherish in their company and understand that not only do they matter to me… but that I matter too, and anyone who things otherwise- hell, even that morbid side to myself in fact- well they can all go and fuck themselves.

 

“No Eren you’ve got it wrong.”

Marco’s voice grates deep into my skull, and in a swift reflex I stand, turning around to face the waiter. His face is numbed, distained in a mixture of exhaustion and pure irritation above all else.

“Marco?” His grandfather queries with a maternal, yet oblivious concern glossed over his face as he veers over the bar counter. Still his grandson appears to ignore his carer’s call all the same,  

“You can go home Grandad, I can lock up from here.” Marco instructs without so much as turning back, “There is no light at the end of the tunnel Eren and there is no pot of gold over the rainbow. Life is shit, that’s never going to change.”

I can sympathize with his frustration, it’s similar to the unworthiness I’ve been feeling about myself for a seemingly endless time. But I know now, this time more than ever that Marco is hurting deeply- I shouldn’t be surprised at all that he’s given up on his hope of a better life for himself.

“You can’t honestly think this niche daydream of yours is any good? The world just isn’t meant for people like us to get what we want.”

 _‘People like us’_ \- he means himself and I above all else, people who have lost someone, people who lost a part of themselves because of it.

“You should all just give up while you still have the chance. A plan like yours is never going to work. This- this going against the flow, this Bohemia that you are so in love with… it’s dead.”

The room falls silent of all motion as Marco finishes, gripping tightly at the sweeping brush between his hands to the point I wouldn’t put it past him to break it.

I don’t know what to tell the poor guy- I mean, nothing I say can fix what has happened to his family, or take away the fact that the origin for their passing is one of the very people I am doing all of this for. No wonder Marco’s pissed at me; I should be seething at Levi right now, not trying to get him back, not this soon at any rate-

“Wow, who died?” Connie snorts innocently and- fucking hell I-

“Oh my _god_ I love you Connie Springer, you are diabolical!” Annie practically moans of all things between her fits of laughter. Though if anything, I think I’m rather thankful that her overtly-dramatic display does the job of distracting everyone from Connie’s unknowingly insensitive comment just long enough for me to figure out how to approach Marco- or perhaps, _yes_! Even all of them-

“Bohemia is dead?” Leisurely I curl my lips up into a wicked grin, one which diverts everyone’s attention back to me in a somewhat barbaric confusion, even more so when I pull myself up, standing first onto my chair, then up again onto the table-top, “Well, no one ever told me!”

“Eren what are you doing?” Marco frowns, taking a step back away circumspectly.

“I guess all that’s left to say is; _dearly beloved_ _we gather here to say our goodbyes-“_ My voice chimes out in a slow hum, processing the tempo of the melody within my head-

“Eren no-“ Jean has caught on instantly, furthermore unsurprisingly so,

“ _Here she liessss, no one knew her worth- the late, great daughter of Mother Earth,”_ I continue to sing, pacing myself as I begin my slow movement atop the table towards Jean at the other end, mindful over everyone’s curious glances below, _“on this night when we celebrate the birthhh-“_

“What’s wrong?” Armin turns his face to Jean beside him, who slowly enough is boiling up with humorous infuriation that I can’t help myself but grin all the more at the sight of.

How I’ve missed this,

“He fucking _knows_ I love Rent!”

Jean never did lack conviction in his love for Jonathan Larson-

“ _We raise our glass, you bet your ass! To, La Vieeee- Boheme_.”

The scuffles of confusion cease for a moment, and shit- this perhaps was a rather stupid idea on my behalf, I suppose I do look rather ridiculous stood atop the table like I am,

“La Vie Boheme.” Mikasa’s voice starts quietly behind me, and snapping my head back I spot her, seated still, yet smiling happily up to me with a blissful sort of encouragement,

“La Vie Boheme.” Sasha and Connie follow shortly suit, giggling lightly at Jean’s growing child-like annoyance,

“You know none of you are getting a Christmas card?” He sneers, crossing his arms over his chest,

“La Vie Boheme.” Reiner and Bertolt have joined in now too and gradually the five of them increase in their volume, twisting their heads between the rest of the group for support. Their chants continue with an occasional rhythmic clap or snap of fingers chiming in as well.

Well, I suppose that is my queue to continue after all.

“ _To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing-“_

“Eren stop-“ Jean stands up from his chair in a brisk fashion as I gather my momentum, creeping my way precisely with swinging legs across the cluster of tables, “I mean it!”

His warning is half-hearted at best, it only encourages me to continue in an even more gleeful fashion, scrunching my eyes shut and flaying out my hands with savvy showmanship,

“ _The need to express, to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane, going ma-aaa-d!_ Come on Jean-y boy, what other chance are you going to get to stand up on a dining table and sing a song _your_ _favorite_  Broadway musical?” I try coaxing him up, encouraging the small audience surrounding me to laugh all the more,

“In hell! With the rest of you…” Jean’s face gains an embarrassed pink tinge to it, noticeable to all even under the moodful orange glow of the pizzeria.

“ _To loving tension, no pension,”_ Bertolt’s voice of all people, surprises me, and turning my head down to the right of me do I watch in amazement as he too pushes himself up to stand on the table between his loose melody of words, _“to more than one dimension_ _, to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension-“_

“You too?” Jean whines, his face transferring into one filled with comical offence,

“- _Not to mention of course hating dear old mom and dad!”_ Bertolt yells happily, thrusting both his middle fingers up above him in his own immature rebellion.

We all fall silent again, eyes locking onto Jean. He chews at the inside of his cheeks and looks to the ground, only for a short while, before shaking his head with a low chuckle,

“You know what?” Jean raises himself again, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto his chair, “Fuck it!” And giving in, Jean pulls himself up onto the table at the other side of me, “ _To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits_ _, to fruits, to no absolutes, to Absolut, to choice, to the Village Voice- To any passing fad!_ Ha, Ha- _”_ Jean pants as he finishes, face red with embarrassment and from the sudden shift in vocal projection. His pupils seem to widen like the expansion of a balloon and remain locked and unwavering from my own, “Happy now?”

I can’t help but laugh at this, true and honestly and it feels almost interstellar in nature. For such a long time I thought that I’d never be able to have this back, to have my best friend- my partner in crime- back by my side in this way. It’s like we’ve always said in the past, when we perform together all our problems seem to slip away in almost an instantaneous swoop. I know there is still so much work to be done, that I may yet never be able to earn Jean’s trust back in the way I had it before- not after everything I’ve done to him.

“You can belt out Rent lyrics without even thinking about it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this overtly homosexual before” Annie snorts up to Jean in pleasant bewilderment, “and I watched Burlesque with you when you got laryngitis.”

But even though feelings may still be raw and busied, some even left to be uncovered all together; all those more frightening notions begin to slip from my mind one by one, and I can forget about it all: the hate, the anger, the sadness- finally I can smile with Jean once again.

“ _To being an ‘us’ for once- instead of a ‘them’!”_ I extend my hands either side of me, offering one each to Bertolt and Jean. They accept, taking them between their own and squeezing tightly with a reassuring smile, a promise that- as almost ambassadors for everyone else here- they will try, that we can do this, _“La Vie Bohme!”_

“You know I still hate practically all of you?” Annie smirks, pushing back in her own chair to stand, “ _But_ I hate myself more… so come on, get off.” She ushers the three of us off the table before pushing down on Jean’s shoulder to clamber up onto the surface-top herself, “MIKASA!” Annie hollers, pointing a finger down the line of tables towards her roommate, “Kitchen routine number 5!”

Swiftly Mikasa joins Annie up into the middle of the cluster of tables following a collection of hollers and jeers from the rest of the congregation.

“Nutbush?” She quizzes, grabbing one of Annie’s hand between her own,

“Oh you know it girl.” And the two of them part their legs, and hop them back together in rhythmic unison, “ _To hand crafted beers made in local breweries_ _, to yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese!”_ Annie turns her body away from Mikasa and raises her hands above her head grinding back against the other girl, following even more erratic laughter, _“To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo. To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou_ Woo _!”_ The two conclude, facing one another again in a collection of claps and fist-bumps before bowing and hopping back off the table.

“ _Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion_ _-“_ Turning my body I spot Jean, seated back down and pulling a giggling Armin into his lap, chiming out the words into his ear as if cajoling the boy into joining in, “ _Creation, vacation-“_

“MUCHO MASTURBATION!” Connie practically screeches, crushing his lips to Sasha’s in hastily laughter before darting past and diving himself up onto Reiner’s back-

“ _To Sontag!”_

“ _To Soundheim!”_

“ _To anything taboo!_ ”

The grin on my face becomes practically impenetrable as I watch them all continue valiantly in the cluster of cheering, claps resulting in an almost shockingly well-produced rendition of the song.

I knew it; I knew we could pull something like this off if we all cooperated. Us guys- we just work, fit together bizarrely like some pieces on a cluster-fuck of a jigsaw puzzle.

“ _Lenny Bruce_!” Reiner falters with the fresh weight clutching at his back, though laughs through it all the same.

“ _Langston Hughes_!” Connie retorts Reiner, mastering his new-found vantage point by nipping at the taller boy’s cheeks with audacious lovingness.

“You know what, fine! But only because I have a reputation to uphold of being five-times better than any of you,” Ymir sighs unprompted, extending her hands out to Bertolt beside her, “Bertie, hoist me up! This is the closest you will most likely ever be to a bridal carry you realise-“ She snorts, securing herself within Bertolt’s arms, “Ehem- _TO THE STAGE_!” The girl warbles proudly, earning a rather worthy round of applause from the conglomerate of the rest us.

Even Ymir is getting involved now, I can hardly believe it. Though part of me expects her motivations are no where near out of any remaining affection she may have held left for me, no, more so out of an appreciation for the song itself and perhaps her over-baring diva necessity to be the best performer in the room at all times.

Everyone is coming together it seems, or rather, almost-

“Come on Marco, you know you want to!” I call the waiter hopefully; who in the monstrous scuffle of dancing limbs and feet on tables has he diverged his way far off behind the restaurant bar in a plea for escapism.

“ _Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow-_ ”

“No, I _really_ don’t-“ The freckled teen stammers, face contorting in horror at the daring sight of Reiner challenging Sasha to a rendition of the C-walk atop the table, Connie still grappling onto the broad blonde’s back like some sort of feral animal-

“- _to blow off auntie Em!”_ Sasha and Historia rise behind the bar, much to Marco’s utter surprise and terror.

“And please don’t break the furniture…” The freckled teen pleads me, flailing in detaching each prying girl from his arms in the politest manner he can muster.

“ _LA VIE BOHEME_!”

“ _Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens_ _, carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee Wee Herman!”_ I feel Mikasa pull me by the arm, back into the circle of bodies surrounding the tables, similarly to that of Annie and Historia’s successful tugs at Marco’s sleeves, forcing the boy in between the rest of us, _“German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein, Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa, Carmina Burana!”_

Jean spins Armin in his arms, Connie, Bertolt and Reiner raise Ymir above their heads like some sort of dignified Cleopatra, the rest of the girls triumph in hauling an unkempt Marco up onto the tabletop and circle around him- everyone sways with a sort of metrical beat about them, seemingly loosing themselves to the intoxication that is the ridiculousness of the informal recital.

_“To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy, Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC! To no shame never playing the fame game-“_

“YOU ARE ALL PLAYING THE FAME GAME!” Marco antagonizes with a flippant raise of his arms as if pleading with someone- anyone- to rid him of this shameless display.

“ _To marijuana!_ ” Reiner reject’s Marco’s criticism, thrusting a bud from his pocket between his lips and grinning wildly before Marco snatches it away in horror. Though not until Sasha jokingly cracks the whip of her scarf against Connie’s backside, does the black-haired teen give in on all attempts at ceasing the immature exhibition and begin his march away, “ _To S &M-” _

“Waiter waiter!” I feel terrible in reality, though struggle between the bubbling laughter I have ever-so missed, to call for my friend to come back, “Marco, come on!”

“ _La Vie Boheme!_ ” The ten of them holler and cheer as they conclude, raising their hands to the ceiling and clinging to one-another in blind and desperate hugs off endearment.

 

When the dust gradually settles all eyes fall back towards Marco and I, as I cling eagerly at his arm, imploring him to not be the one to leave me now as well. It is cruel of me really; to plead him to stay regardless of knowing the amount of painful pressure that resides within him at the thought of me reminding him of the truth of his parent’s death.

But Marco is a special person to me. He resides on a level that transcends that of any other person I know. I have never once doubted my appreciation for the compassion that he offers me, nor have I shied away from giving him the same in return. Marco understands me on an individual level almost unlike any one else; above Mikasa, Erwin- even Levi in some respects, a person I came to believe to read me like an open book. Though it may stem from some egocentric level of greed, I don’t want to loose that connection with Marco, I’ll fight for him if I have to.

“…You guys are all insane.” He sighs with a shake of his head, though an edge of understanding lingers within his words, and he allows himself to be guided back towards the others.

 

*

 

“Hey Eren, I think I found something that could help us out.” Bertolt slips into the chair beside me.

Everyone rather settled into casual convocation after the escapade of the amateur performance. Jean and Armin helped clear some of the destruction we caused within the pizzaria, while Mikasa and Connie settled in aided Marco in preparing some food and drinks in the kitchen to lay between us all.

“I was looking through my phone and remembered something back from the beginning of term,” Bertolt continues, scrolling through his photo album and guiding my attention towards one particular video, “while I was still taking theatre Professor Levi asked me to record the class practicing America to try help me learn. Do you think we could send this video of Ymir to some scouts, give them a reason to come n’ check her out?”

“Yes- yes this is great!” I beam, viewing the video for myself. There is no denying Ymir’s capabilities, I even remember this day in particular. Reiner met Bertolt for the first time, when the band came to practice in the auditorium. Ha- Reiner had struggled in remaining focused for practice after that; Bertolt clearly had made an impression on the love-struck blond right from the start.

“Eren! You ready to tell us the rest of your plan then or what?” Connie’s garlic dough-muffled voice draws my attention back to everybody else, “you got an idea right?”

“Yeah actually,” I start, adjusting myself and gain everyone’s silent attention, “I was uh- I was thinking of doing The Lion King.”

“ _What?_ ” Jean’s retching voice is the first to erupt, shortly followed by a cascade more sighs of disbelief.

“You are joking right?”

“I though we were keeping this easy?”

“It _can_ be easy! You can’t tell me you don’t all know at least _one_ song off-by-heart already?” I coerce them, arms fanning outwardly.

“Really? You think it’s going to be easy to successfully pull-off one of the most elaborate productions known to Broadway? We might as well do fucking Les Mis!” Jean flaps some more and above his words I rummage my pocket for my list-

“No no I’ve got it all in a plan-“

“Oh look he’s got a plan!” Jean rolls his eyes sarcastically, snatching the paper from my hand, “Bertolt, heads up buddy you’ve landed the lead!”

“W-what- no!” Bertolt’s hand thrust down onto the table and his head snaps right to face me.

“You are the only boy here with theatre experience!”

“Eren I want to help you- _I do_ \- but, but I can’t perform like that, not again! I’ve spent my entire semester on this whole damn symbolic journey of finding myself or whatever, about not giving a crap what everyone else wants from me anymore!” Bertolt pleads with me and I can’t help but fall weakened at his claims, I myself remember very well the taxation of Levi constantly berating my choices in activity at the expense of musical theatre.

“Woah! If Iron Giant is getting out of this then I am too. I don’t even sing!” Annie follows, waving her finger out wildly at me.

“She’s lying, she sings Girls Generation songs in the shower.” Mikasa replies flatly, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of fries in front of her.

“You traitor…” Annie hisses in response, thrusting a handful of said fries into her mouth and crossing her arms over her chest in a begrudged temper.

“Alright, Bertolt, Annie- you can have small parts, is that okay?” I compromise with the two of them, “Good. Now Ymir, opening number- Rafiki.”

“Now we’re talking.” The audacious girl appears to finally find enough satisfaction to smile.

“Reiner, Connie-“

“You don’t even need to tell us dude- Timone and Pumba all the way!” The pair high-five enthusiastically.

“Oh Connie, how are Sunny and Martin’s theatre lessons coming along?”

“They’re top of their class.” Connie grins knowingly. The inclusion his younger siblings is a key aspect to my plan after all.

“Jean- Zazu.”

“A what-zoo?” Jean eyebrows dip in confusion, his head jolting back down to the sheet of paper between his hands, “Wait; the _bird_?!”

 “HA _! Squonk!_ ” Sasha clenches hold of her gut in dubious laughter at Jean’s hysterical expense.

“Shut up!”

“Sasha, how about the female lead?” I break through the two’s rising cut-throat playish bites at one another, “You’re one of our best singers.”

“No can do! You seriously I’ll be able to keep a straight face singing _‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight?’_ with any of you? No no, I’m being a hyena! Get Mikasa to do it.” Sasha points down the length of the table towards a concerned yet rather willing Mikasa, “But we’re still missing a Simba.”

“No we’re not.” Mikasa’s attention diverts back towards me. _Me?_

She wants me to take the lead- no, no I can’t do that… hell I’m not even sure it’s out of irritation for what it’ll entail. Just, well taking a romantic lead with her while things are still tense and half-unspoken as it is-

“What? No I’m the stage director here!”

“Why, because you _‘don’t like dumb musicals’_?” Jean babies, though the pleasured grin at what I imagine he perceives to be well-deserved karma rests comfortably ever-present across his face, “That is still the worst lie you have ever told us ya know? So come on Jaeger, Lin-Manuel yourself up and do it.”

“Fine, whatever!” I cover quickly before I allow myself to contemplate much further what my actions are exactly going to entail, “Lastly, Armin, Historia- can you two do something small? I also really need your help with costumes and set design with Reiner.”

Armin appears apprehensive, shuddering at the thought of getting up on stage until Jean calms him into the prospect. His persuasion deeming successful at the _‘I’m going to be decked in fucking feathers- don’t you worry about being the laughing stock’_ stage of conversation.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something? You know- the bad guy.” Ymir frowns, snatching the piece of paper from Jean beside her and hawking over the content.

“Oh I know _just_ the person.” My lips curl up in insane satisfaction before she has a chance to read out the name for herself, “Marco?”

Everyone’s heads turn down the very end of the table, eyes unblinking and curious for response.

Marco appears to only process the notion at this action; his head delayed in its jolt upwards when he catches sight of me, does his face fill with both frantic confusion and general panic.

“W-what no, no I don’t- I mean I don’t even go to college with you guys- I can’t!”

“Marco,” I try calm him, dissolving any other outside noise harboring within the room and focusing the entirety of my attention solely towards him, “this is your _chance_. To prove it to him, _to everyone_ how good you are!”

It may be more realistic to presume that this insane plan of mine is rather biasly motivated in favor of trying to mend the wrong-doings I have caused those I care about. I’ve never purposefully intended to hurt Marco in the same way I had tried to gain some sort of twisted advantage over Jean in my time of jealous vulnerability. I never tried to destruct the careful consideration Marco constantly grants me; I never wanted to loose him. I never imagined that I would.

Then again, I never thought that Levi could have ever been the catalyst to Marco’s undoubtable weariness of life either.

I could try fix everything without Marco here at all, I might still have a small chance at succeeding that way too. But that’s not to say I want to. This is why I am here; this is why we all are. I cannot imagine a truthful scenario in which I try to make this work with everybody without him beside me as well. What sort of friend would that make me, to abandon Marco where he is, to leave him to simply carry on with a life he grows ever tired of living because I never gave him the chance to be anything other than the exceedingly normal human he despises? Marco deserves this chance more than anyone- I’m not about to take it away from him.

“But Eren… I’m a nobody.” Marco’s head drops to the hands in his lap, his voice self-callous and belittling of the capabilities I _know_ he has, “I have no fancy qualifications, and I’m not all that smart. Ha… I smell like pizza dough all the time, you know? I’m a miserable virgin, I’m lonely-“

“Aw boy I only met once last Forth of July, _my_ vagina throbs for you!” One again Annie’s astounding track-record of inappropriately-timed commentary succeeds her. Though Marco appears to take her comment as rather tongue-and-cheek, shaking his head lightly and carrying on,

“No one wants to see me up on some stage Eren; no one wants to see me succeed.”

The melancholy sigh that leaves through my parted mouth is quiet and honest, and my jaw tenses in a taxing effort to control the quiver threatening my bottom lip.

It’s the thought of Marco’s lachrymose credence of himself that hits me the worst. The idea that he would think so lowly of himself, disregard the qualities he possesses for the sake of finding it less strenuous to give up on everything he wants because of how many times he’s been told _‘no’_.  

I can see myself within Marco’s image of himself. I understand his insecurities in accepting that he actually deserves happiness just as much as the next person. But I can look across this table and see all these people here who have come for me, come to hear what I had to say. Those I love and cherish and want nothing more than the best for, they are right here with me.

I guess in this respect Marco does seem to be failing in comparison.

Marco has been told plenty of times in his life that he’s incapable of doing something because of the life he’s been given. Marco has never had this many people surrounding him or telling him instead that _‘yes you can’_.

Well he does now.

“I do, I want to see that.”


	26. Act 2: Erwin / Mikasa / Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... So I may have been gone a little longer than two months...
> 
> But I'm back!! And just in time with an Erwin pov for the new manga chapter... Lets not talk about that...
> 
> But I hope you enjoy!! And that it was worth the wait!!

**Erwin**

  
I’d always found that Levi possessed a grace about him somewhat uncharacteristic of his off-setting appearance.

Eleven years ago I’d never particularly imagined myself ‘settling down’ so to speak. Perhaps part of me thought I already had when I brought Eren into my home. I’d never grown up savouring the idea of staying dedicated with a romantic partner for any long period of time. Relationships were to me, as casual as a doctor’s appointment, and I didn’t particularly mind if others thought me to be insensitive or incapable of love because of that.

I knew I had emotions, ones of my own and ones somewhat hereditary in that they could be passed along to the likes of Eren who- despite being nothing of my technical blood- remains to be the closest thing to living family that I have left. Perhaps that is why that boy is so darn emotional these days; he has good reason to with the likes of Levi’s truth carrying weight at his shoulders. That, along with how his mother’s death had affected him when he was still so young. Yes, Eren expresses so much emotion because he has so much love to give, a love that builds up and festers inside of him until he can’t establish any sort of boundary against it anymore. He tries so hard to suppress his feelings that when something does happen, he looses all control and then just- snaps.

I think I may have lost some control for a little while. I banished Levi out the door without fully giving him a chance to explain himself. The one person who has ever truly made me want to let go of that feeling of self-riotousness in my lack of commitment, made me want to accept that I could still live for myself and not be frightened of inviting someone inside to do the same alongside me.

I think part of the reason why I raised myself in such a way can be held on account of Carla’s death. She was my closest friend. Not the sort whom I had known the longest or even spent the greater proportion of my time with; but Carla was the one with whom I could share anything. She was a safe space through and through and lacked any form of deprecating judgement. When Carla died it registered to me how fragile our existence on earth actually is. It made me aware of the dangers of loving someone, of being so accustomed to another person only to have them leave you. I should have learnt from my mistakes; I never should have allowed myself to let my guard down when it came to Levi. Only then would I never have been able to feel this empty.

  
Carla was too good; she was too innocent to go. I see that same innocence whenever I look at Eren. I wanted to protect, to savour that innocence by keeping him close and monitoring his actions; though perhaps in doing so I did nothing but push him further away.

I can hardly read Eren anymore, I was a fool to ever think that I truly could. Levi was always better with the boy than me, perhaps not so forwardly, but in a subtle, stern though never-failing manner. All Eren has appeared to do for months is lock himself in his room or leave in the car without any explanation as to where he is going. I haven’t seen one of his friends over in what feels like forever, Mikasa too and it frightens me.  
It frightens me because I don’t know how I am supposed to help him when I hardly know where to begin with helping myself. Levi would know what to do. Ha, Levi, Levi, Levi-

Damn it, of course I cannot get him out of my head!

Where is he?

What is he doing?

Is he okay?

Is he thinking about me too?

  
“Oh, pardon me Sir. I’d assumed you had already gone home.” The voice of Moblit- my secretary- rings through my ears and startles me into reality.

He was right to assume such a thing; god what time is it even? It must be late, far too late for me to still be held up in my office doing very little in particular. I guess I simply cannot face the reality of going home to an empty house.

Not that being here is all that much better. Everything around me plagues as a constant reminder of Levi’s lack of presence. This morning alone I had to help complete an all-new staff rota and re-assign his classes, by lunch there was an eerily noiseless sense of abandonment while I ate alone (or at least tried to, it didn’t really seem an appropriate endeavour without Levi coming into my office to proclaim his disgust for lacking student hygiene over toasted bagels and cream soda).

“No that’s alright Moblit, what is it?” I sigh tiredly, struggling in composing myself with a state of normality through a smile that even the least sharp-witted of minds could pick up on as false.

“I just came to leave the billing forms for the construction work they are planning for the Quinta building on Rose campus. Mr Zackly said to leave the contractor’s details with you to arrange a suitable date.” Moblit remains somewhat bashful with apprehension, he has been rather carful in approaching me throughout the last couple of days. In fact, everyone is beginning to treat me as if I’m damaged property.

It’s not as if they can begin to understand the complexity of the situation, I can’t even falsify that title of acknowledgement for myself. Still they waver when aggressing me, treat me with caution as if I’m a newly ‘divorced’ (like we were ever married) landmine ready to erupt.

“Oh right yes, thank you Moblit.” I nod loosely and retrieve the file from his hands, half-expecting the young man to leave. However, when he does little to move, my curiosity spikes up, “Is there something else? Besides, isn’t it getting rather late? You should be going home too.”

“That’s it Sir, well- see-“ Moblit stammers, redness ascending rapidly up his neck- an obvious blush none the less, “tonight I am meeting someone for a drink you see-“ He continues helplessly over his words, an action which strikes a small grin to my face that I wasn’t sure until now were at all possible given current events. “I was just wondering if you knew… what is was that Ms. Zoe of the reprographics department was most partial to in terms of- eh- alcoholic beverages... I know the two of you are friends outside of work.”

“So you and Hanji are finally going on a date, huh?” The smile continues to play on my lips as I shove the files into my side draw.

“What? No! No- it’s just a casual- uh- meet up, between colleagues!” How adorable. Though nothing short of troublesomely late either. The two of them have been playing around their schoolyard crush on one another at lethargic pace not even the likes of the students under us would be bashful enough for.

“It’s alright Moblit, I understand.” I nod in an attempt to calm the fumbling young man, “You two just have fun alright? Though not too much fun, I don’t expect you to arrive tardy to work tomorrow.”

“No no, of course not sir- well anyway I better be going-“ His embarrassment is obscene, and he makes quick work of excusing himself towards the door in a display all too comical.

“Moblit-“

“Yes sir?” He turns quickly, clearly having forgotten completely what he had asked of me in the first place.

“Hanji has a strong head on her shoulders. She likes the dark stuff, rum, though nothing too fancy. Brugal should do fine.”

“Right… thank you sir.” Moblit somewhat calms at my words, smiling softly before nodding an excusing himself out the door, shutting it behind and leaving me alone to my thoughts once again.

 

 

**Mikasa**

  
“Have you set The Blacklist to record?” I ask Annie plainly, chewing down on the nail of my thumb.

“No.” Her retort is as uninterested as it is brief, and she continues to drum her fingers intensely against the keys of the laptop, spectacled eyes glued towards the homework assignment in her lap.

“Why?” I scoff, making a hasty jab for the controller to complete the job myself. Honestly why must she be so nonchalant about everything? It’s not as if we’re three seasons into the show to anything-

“Because that’s tomorrow night. Stop stressing out.” Crap it is only Wednesday. God I’m loosing my mind. It’s just, well I can’t stop thinking about what happened the other night.

We all made amends with Eren. Sort of at least.

But that doesn’t just mean the air around us is all-together settled. We all still have so much to discuss, Eren and I especially. There was only so much I could really say in such close proximity of everybody else, and as a matter of fact I still haven’t quite put together what I need to say to him at all.

On top of that Eren has been all but impossible to capture alone over the past few days. His mind is so busy figuring out all the tiny details of this musical and ‘fixing everything’, he has had little time to just settle down and talk to any of us individually. Along with tracking down Levi’s whereabouts which he’s narrowed down to one of six Best Western’s just outside of the city. That is another prospect I remain practically clueless about. He told us all in brief; that something about Levi’s past with the police came back to bite him and Erwin booted him out of the house for keeping it all a secret.

If anything I’m proud of Eren for remaining so strong. His passion for this musical and helping to mend all of our fractured relationships with one another is something remarkably admirable considering it appears he’s lost sudden contact with one of the only seemingly positive adult figures he has left. But none of that means I still don’t want him all to myself for just a little while.

  
“I’m not stressing out.” I lie, my body practically vibrating where I sit beside Annie on the couch.

We are all to meet at the auditorium at 5:30 for practice. Eren managed to pull some strings with Hanji after telling her to make it seem as if him and the boys are using the room for band practice since West Side Story was cancelled, while keeping the real reason we are all banding in there away from the prying eyes of Erwin.

Two more hours. God I don’t think I can wait that long. I feel as if I am supposed to be learning lines or helping Historia buy fabrics for costumes, but really with the unknowingness of mine and Eren’s relationship resting heavily in my stomach, I’m finding it all too difficult to direct my full attention to anything else at all.

“Yes you are, you’ve been strumming your fingers against the couch arm for the past 10 minutes, it is highly irritating. Let me work before I get forced to Hakuna Matata myself into an early grave.” I should feel bad really, Annie is trying her hardest to keep on top of her own work while helping out with this off-the-books musical. She must be stressed too, even if she won’t say it; she’s even wearing her ‘concentrating glasses’.

“Right… sorry.” I sigh in defeat, screwing together my twitching fingers into a fist, “But do you think Eren will want to talk about us tonight or not? I mean we never got chance the other day at Marco’s place and I guess it’s been floating up in the air for a long enough time now, right? Do you think he knows that I still want to be together, you do don’t you?”

Annie’s features appear to dwindle into a perturbed frown the longer I ramble on, hardly stopping for breath. Her brows nit and her eyes roll, jaw falling slack before she lets out one long, overtly dramatic sigh.

“Alright that’s it.” The blonde barks, forcing her laptop shut and shoving it into the backpack on the floor beside her, rising hastily in an attempt to make it towards our front door. “I’m not dealing with you anymore. I’ve given enough sappy pep-talks to last a lifetime. If you want me for an issue that isn’t Eren Jaeger related- I’ll be in The Grind making use of their free Wi-Fi and delicious parfaits.”

However, as if some higher power can hear all the inner workings of my mind, as Annie pulls against the sliding red door of our apartment none other than Eren himself appears- hand raised and ready to knock- at the other side.

“Eren?” I jolt up almost too quickly, instantly becoming self-conscious of my lack in keeping up appearances. I brush down pathetically at my well-worn jumper and flatten down my bedraggled knots of hair. Why should I even be worried? I’ve known Eren since I was a child, and he’s definitely seen me in far worse conditions. “I thought we weren’t meeting for a couple more hours?”

“Ah, no you’re right. It’s just, well we need to talk- me and you that is-“ He struggles over his words, though not in any similar fashion to the day I found him in Time Square. No, now he seems far more collected in his demeanour, nothing except his youthful blushing nerves keeping him from properly expressing himself.

I’m thankful for that. The image still remains engraved deep within my mind, his hyperventilating, close to breaking form doubled over against the wall, the way I watched him flee away into a yellow cab because he was far too terrified to face me-me.

It was the same day I told Annie everything I was thinking. When I sulked helplessly in the bathroom, the same day she told me to start treating Eren like more of a human being, a fragile but strong and all-together very real equal yet still individualist counterpart to myself.

“I just wasn’t really sure how to say any of it,” That makes two of us, “Pst, Jean, Connie, you can come in now.”

“ _Oooo_ -“ Like puppets following string, the two boys heads extend either side of the door, a low chime to their tone making me instantaneous aware of their theatrical intent.

“NO! Hell no, no more harmonising!” It appears Annie understood too, and was proportionally less overjoyed by the prospect, “I will not suffer though any more of your sudden and vaguely relevant musical numbers, I’m so over it!”

“Wow, rude…”Connie begins to sulk, the two wing-men forcing their way past and making themselves at home over by the couch.

“No, what’s rude is you barging into my house to serenade Mikasa with some cheesy ballad instead of just talking to one another. Half of this mess all started over a Chicago tribute act!” Eren’s argument falls short in his mouth at the truthfulness of her words, “Right well, you’re welcome.” Annie finishes with an affirmative sigh, trudging her way back over towards the front door, leaving a short and immature kick to Connie and Jean’s respective shins on rote. “Later, assholes.”

“Okay then,” Eren coughs into his hand, shaking out his limbs before turning back from the closing door and towards me, “Mikasa, can we?”

“Oh okay sure yeah um- here?” I glance sceptically towards Jean and Connie, both of whom appear to be rather enjoying their front-row seats of the up-and-coming display.

“Yeah I mean, well, they know anyway so-“

“Know what?”

“Um, well, that I love you-“

Oh.

“ –yeah. That hasn’t changed, and that’s never going to change if that’s alright with you. Like, I see us with a house out the city in a few years, maybe even in Tarrytown, you know with a big lawn and cute porch furniture and a couple of Bobtail cats because I know you love those. And I guess I just wanted to make sure you still loved me back. Also I wanted to say that I’m really sorry again even though you told me to stop apologising to you… yeah.”

Eren’s abundance of words swirl in my mind to an unprecedented degree.  
The weight of them. The weight of us. My heart aches with a pain so great it feels almost sadistic to want it to continue.  
I love him.  
I love Eren.

“I had planned a whole Beatles number to say it better… Uh, Mikasa?”

I want to- I- I don’t even know.  
Hug him?  
Kiss him?  
God, would that even be enough? I just want- to love him… I want to love him. I do. Always… Its always been Eren.

“…Mikasa?”

I loose myself as if I’m falling for him all over again.  
It’s like fire, like scorching hot flames dancing in my stomach and funnily enough it is the best feeling in the world.

“Can you maybe say something please, you’re kinda leaving me hanging right here.” Eren’s wobbling voice brings me back, though even so I find myself virtually speechless, my own body shaking with a bubbling anxiety that I’m sure Connie and Jean are finding all too amusing-

“Just say something, you’re killing me here!” Jean cups his hands over his mouth and yells, earning and hiccuping laughter from Connie.

“YES!” I yelp as if it pains me, awkward,embarrassing, but still very much true.

I love Eren.  
I love him and I’ll tell the world, every god-damn person, who cares how awkward it may be.

Though in retrospect, I should probably tell Eren that first-

“I LOVE YOU, YOU- YOU _MORON_!” Eren’s smile grows wide, impossibly so, and in a flash too rapid to comprehend, his arms are around me.  
I gasp, my hands floating aimlessly until they register what is happening, finding their way around Eren’s shoulders, gripping just as tight, my face falling into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.  
His body is warm, close, so close. I never realised how much I missed feeling him against me until now. It’s an ecstasy too intoxicating to refuse.

“Hey um,” Jean’s voice appears as nothing but a faint murmur in the back of my mind, though neither Eren or I find it possible to pull apart, far too lost in the moment to contemplate the two pairs of gawping eyes only a few metres away. “I know this is supposed to be touching n’all. But did you really just call Eren a moron?”

“I know right, this may be the biggest train-wreck of a reunion ever. And I dressed up as a Mormon preacher for Sasha…”

Yes it may be a train-wreck.  
Awkward, insane even.

But isn’t that what love is about? Being there for one another no matter how scary or messy or down-right, mid-day, living room, friend interrupting, ridiculous it may be?

Hell, who even cares? The way Eren’s arms feel around my own, regardless of where we are of what is happening around us- I wouldn’t change this feeling for anything else in the world.

 

 

**Jean**

  
It was a day before Eren went over to see Mikasa that he had invited himself to spend the night in my dorm room.  
It was a somewhat unspoken arrangement that neither of us could amply find the words to express.

It was around 10:30pm when the knock came to my door. For a moment I had suspected to find Armin at the other side; he and Reiner had started almost immediately in their work putting together set pieces for the musical. And Armin- being a workaholic by nature- had already decided for himself that he’d press on with the work even into the later hours of the evening.

But it wasn’t Armin at the other side of the door. Granted, giving my boyfriend a well-deserved back massage did sound like an excellent way to spend my otherwise activity-free evening. So you can imagine the deflation in my expression to find Eren at the other side; apologetic sulk to his face and a pillow under his arm.

I couldn’t refuse him, it didn’t even matter how angry his face still made me if I allowed myself to think to long and hard about the record deal and how he figured I’d even consider taking Mikasa away from him.

Yes, I couldn’t turn my back on him that night. I couldn’t because I knew exactly how he was feeling.  
I knew all too well what it was like to be missing a parent. To not know exactly where they were or what they were doing or even how to help them because they are the parent and you are the child and it is just not supposed to work that way.  
How is the child supposed to help? That’s the whole point of them being the kid, you don’t. Or at least it’s not supposed to be that way.

When my dad called to say he was being posted back in Afghanistan I felt in the very depth of my chest, such a strong and intense feeling of helplessness. I simply didn’t know what would happen, you never can. Eren must have been feeling that way too, when he came to my door.

It overcame him, the helplessness. It had finally settled in that he had no idea where Levi was, what he was doing, if he would ever even see him again and before anyone else I just knew how terrifying that helplessness was.

  
“ _I heard you had your first kiss with Armin out on Mikasa’s balcony.”_

That was the first thing Eren said to me that night.

We nestled in a virtually pitch-black darkness, laying top-to-tail in my single bed, half drifted into sleep though somewhat still restless with the gravity of the unspoken words and actions of the past still between us.

“ _Yup…_ ”

I had sighed out in a yawn, blinking the sleep from my eyes to wake, to finally try to talk to my best friend like a normal human being again.

“ _Was that before or after you crashed into him in the shower_ _block?”_

_“Man shut up-“_

He was unbelievable. After all that had happened, after everything that we had done, Eren Jaeger still found a way to make me laugh.

I kicked my foot to his shoulder, an action which only caused the two of us to snicker all the more.

“ _I’m playing I’m playing!”_

_“You’re one to talk, didn’t you completely miss Mikasa’s mouth the first time you kissed?”_

_“Come on I was like fourteen! That’s practically pre-pubescent!”_

_“Ha, I guess were both about as smooth as fucking sandpaper...”_

My voice began to trail, our laughter dying down until silence had engulfed us once again.

I remember swallowing thick, dry. Nerves perhaps, it was an odd feeling to be nervous in the presence of Eren.

“ _You know..._ ” He stared again, voice slower, serious in its intent, “ _I heard Bertl is a really great singer, like out of theatre... I was thinking of asking if he wanted to take over 104th element for me in the new year.”_

 _“What?_ ” My body jolted up for my night lamp, blinding us both momentarily before I frantically quizzed him again, “ _Why would you do that? Eren it’s your band-“_

“ _I... I think if this whole crazy plan of mine doesn’t work out, then I'll feel even worse about myself going back to the way things were. And as much as I hate to admit it, Levi is right in telling me that I need to make up my mind with what I want to do with myself.”_

He was saddened, clearly. Over Levi, over the prospect of leaving the band, both. I wasn’t sure.

“ _Eren, you know whatever happens at the end of this performance, you don’t need to worry about me not being there for you anymore.”_

It was an honestly I didn’t know I had buried deep until it fell from my lips.

Eren was my friend.  
No, Eren is my friend.

And as stupid as it may have sounded at the time- with the heavy density of our actions on the table, when we were unredeemed, when we were un-atoned for the punches thrown, and the words spewed all still grasped at our very beings- I still couldn’t bare the thought of being angry at Eren for any longer.

I was tired. I knew he was tired too.

“ _But that’s it, you care enough to help me after all I did to you… Even if you don’t get that recording contract back by the end of this. Its all my fault .”_

_“Eren I wont lie to you, I care about that recording contract. But I care about you a hell of a lot more.”_

I do care, that's a given.

Will I ever really be able to forgive myself for forgetting that? I'm still not so sure.

But as the two of us sat there across the bed from one another, eyes glued on one another and stances unwavering- I just knew by looking at him that I really wanted to try.

_“I don’t- I don’t understand-“_

_“I’m saying I love you bro- God damn it...”_

If a blush could be seen visible across my face, I flicked the light off harshly, falling back down against the bed in embarrassment before I let Eren register it.

Teasing material for years to come. Like hell I’d give him the satisfaction…

“ _Haha... Thanks. Say, have you told Armin that yet... without the ‘bro’ bit I mean.”_

‘Oh’ is what rushed through my mind. An ‘oh’ because I hadn’t, an ‘oh’ because Eren made me realise I damn-well wanted to.

“ _In due time.”_  
  
“ _But the feelings are there?_ ”

_“Yeah... Yeah they’re there. In fact, I think they were there the moment I first laid eyes on the guy.”_

_“Wow dude. That’s pretty fuckin’gay-“_

Eren got kicked for a second time that night.

“ _Alright shut up!”_  
  
“ _Ahahaha! I’m sorry I’m sorry_!”

_“Quit with the teasing, I’m opening my heart to you here!”_

Then, as if all the weight carried on my back was lifted in one rushing motion, my body relaxed back into the bed, a long-lost smile at my lips and a content feeling glowing in my heart. It was like coming home after a really long trip.

As easy as that.

_“...I missed you Jenny.”_

We were back.

“ _Yeah, I missed you too… Erica.”_

We were ‘us’ again.


End file.
